Baby, I Mean It
by SphinxScribe
Summary: After a prank gone wrong, Professor McGonagall uses an unorthodox method to teach sixth-year Hogwarts students James and Sirius a lesson in responsibility. Hilarity ensues as Sirius and James' management of the situation grows to ridiculous proportions. Marauder Era. Slight Jily.
1. Retribution Rears its Ugly… Pacifier?

_Disclaimer: _I don't own Harry Potter—no copyright infringement is intended. _Rated T for cursing and some sexual/suggestive language _(it's a story about a group of teenage boys, what else do you expect?)_. Ye've been warned._

_Without further ado, here's _Baby, I Mean It. _Enjoy_.

* * *

Chapter One: Retribution Rears its Ugly… Pacifier?

Professor Minerva McGonagall prided herself on her ability to remain calm under even the most alarming of circumstances. Needless to say, a little bit of self-control went a long way in sorting out mishaps. And mishaps she did sort. Partial bodily transfigurations, hex damage, errant love potions… she dealt with accidents daily, which, though they grew predictable, never grew dull. Such were expected in a school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Merlin knew what _else_ one should expect when the very concept of Hogwarts included magical, hormonal children in a confined area. It was like putting a litter of Kettleburn's fire crabs in Slughorn's potion storeroom. Accidents were bound to happen.

For the number of disasters that came her way, Minerva was proud of her ability to quickly and efficiently resolve them. A cool composure and strict words were often enough to solve a conflict, but when stricter discipline was necessary, such as when Benjamin Grey began smuggling flobberworms in bulk or Marissa Martin and her boyfriend snuck out after hours, she dealt it out accordingly. Discipline was healthy for students: it gave them direction and an opportunity to reflect on their mistakes, especially when their hormones drove them in the opposite direction. She felt a keen sense of satisfaction watching students learn as they grew, so that by the time they had graduated, they were more knowledgeable, mature, and responsible than they had been when they first walked into the Great Hall. After all, education was more than just about knowledge. It was about helping students learn and grow into driven young adults.

And for the most part, Minerva's students did learn and grow. Some went through rough phases, some of which lasted longer than others. Of course, she nearly always had to deal with one Slytherin utterly determined to reject guidance from the Gryffindor Head of House, or one hopeless airhead from Hufflepuff, or one Ravenclaw who thought she knew better, or one Gryffindor who took more than a few punishments to learn his lesson, but even they moved on, eventually. Minerva felt confident that, despite some of the less-than-stellar decisions her students made, the students she sent off into the world could better care for themselves than they had been many years before. Most of them.

Of course, there was also Sirius Black and James Potter.

Minerva swore on her Scottish heritage (which was only used for severe swearing, mind you) that if not for those two smirking Gryffindors, Minerva would not have so many gray hairs. Until they had arrived at the school with their custom theatrical bang, her perception of herself was that of a careful, unwavering, conscientious, and unbiased professor. Now… well, let's just say that the mere sight of the pair evoked worse reactions. Detentions in the first week as first-years! Minerva had never witnessed such a thing! The little horrors! If only then she had realized just the amount of grief she would suffer. It had been six years of disaster, and the pair was no different than how they arrived. Brothers, they were. She knew they were very intelligent. But they were just as insufferable, inseparable, and impish as they had been at age eleven.

Minerva had once sat them down for a severe talking to at the end of their fifth year, in the concern that they were not driven enough. She had dealt with many unmotivated students throughout her teaching years. But there was something especially shameful about watching such talent go to waste. Two boys from her own House—utterly brilliant and gifted. How many times had James Potter won her team Quidditch victories or Sirius Black managed to transfigure above and beyond his peers' abilities? She knew that they had it in them, but the most frustrating aspect was the fact that they made no effort to think about their lives at school.

"Glad to know you care about our academic future, Professor," James Potter had replied when she had scolded them for not taking their lessons seriously. The insufferable boy had the audacity to smirk at her, ruffling his offensively black hair.

"Not your academic future, Potter," she had corrected him, looking over the rims of her glasses. She knew the action intimidated most students, but James and Sirius only grinned at her. "Rather, your ability to self-discipline yourself. Your grades are above average, but I find, as many of your other professors have in the past, that the irresponsible nature of your behavior reflects a serious lack of judgment – oh, for _goodness' sake_, Black, wipe that smirk off your face or you will land yourself a month's detention."

"I can't help it, Professor," the boy had said. He gave her a dashing wink, and Minerva briefly wondered how many girls he had managed to snag with his easy charm. "I have a _serious_ problem with keeping my face straight."

Minerva glared at him for a long while.

"Can we have a biscuit before we leave?"

Minerva had learned something that meeting. Instead of causing trouble for trouble's sake, she now suspected that they did it solely to drive her up the wall. From pranks to harassment to destruction of property, she knew very well that they recognized the error of their actions. She knew they were extremely intelligent and talented individuals. It had showed in their O.W.L. performances, in the ease with which they performed magic and completed schoolwork. But as hard as Minerva tried, they would not take responsibility for their action. It was like they didn't care. It was like they didn't _want_ to grow up.

She had written to their parents, and though both couples promised a talking-to, neither Potter nor Black changed. If anything, they grew more reckless, as if to prove they were not threatened by their superiors' authority. She had even spoken to Dumbledore about it, but when the man had cryptically suggested they needed to be given more responsibilities, she had quickly shut down the idea. No matter how brilliant the Headmaster was, Minerva could only recoil at the idea of Potter and Black with more responsibilities. _More_ responsibilities, imagine that? The thought practically gave her dragon pox.

Despite her doubts that they should advance to their sixth years, their grades were good enough and she allowed them to advance. She could not hold them back based on behavior, anyway; there were no rules in Hogwarts for extended behavior infractions, unless they expressly violated the lives of other students. Potter and Black were smarter than that. They were too smart for their own good.

It was a Tuesday morning in the beginning of November when her long-awaited retribution began. She had spent the entire morning trying to teach her seventh year N.E.W.T. students to transfigure mature rabbits into baby dolls. The transfiguration was complex and difficult, one of the most difficult that she taught, but Minerva looked forward to it every year. It marked a large step for future N.E.W.T. students; most students struggled with the age gap, others with the size of the objects, still others with transforming a living thing into an inanimate object, but when they accomplished the transformation, it gave Minerva the confidence that they would continue to succeed. That wasn't to say that the lesson was learned in a week, or even two. It took much longer than that, and cauldrons of patience. The latter was something she needed right now.

"Mr. Wilkes," Minerva interrupted as she noticed the Slytherin student jabbing his wand into his rabbit's side, his face narrowed in frustration. "Please refrain from harassing your rabbit. It is not a pincushion."

She did not wait to observe his sour look, instead continuing her walk along the tables as she surveyed her students. Nearly all wore expressions of intense concentration, but none had yet completely mastered the transformation. The farthest the class had gotten so far had been with a rabbit-eared baby doll, which, though encouraging, was still not as far as she would have like to have been by now.

"Miss Vance," she said as she passed by a young Ravenclaw and a hairy, morbid, half-cross lying on her table. "You need to clear off all of the fur before you attempt to alter the shape." She waved her wand, and a tawny rabbit appeared on the girl's desk.

Vance looked up at her in exasperation, to which Minerva replied with a stern look. It was just about the end of the period, and Emmeline Vance, like many of the others, was quickly becoming frustrated with the lack of progress. But Minerva knew from numerous years of teaching that continuing to try was the only way they would succeed. And that was not just a lesson needed in Transfiguration.

She soon became aware of nagging whispers behind her, and turned to see Bertram Aubrey and Moran Fletchley leaning in towards each other, talking rapidly and shooting glares at Alice Bigelow, a Slytherin girl sitting a few rows up. Minerva knew Horace Slughorn had just sorted out a large fight between the three, and suspected that Aubrey and Fletchley were up to no good.

"Gentlemen, do you have something you would like to share with the class?" she asked them, fixing them with a look. They both looked up and paled. The rest of the class turned in their seats to look at them, including Bigelow, who glared at both. "Aubrey?" Minerva prompted.

"No, Professor," Avery mumbled.

"Then return to your rabbits," she said. "Perhaps if you were paying attention to classwork, you would not need to be told that your rabbit prefers a cotton diet."

Avery pulled his arm away from his rabbit, and sure enough a hole had been nibbled in his sleeve. His face dropped in anger, but before Minerva could cut across what she knew would be words of frustration, a sudden wail resounded through the classroom.

"GRAARGH!" shouted one of the Ravenclaw boys in the front, as he stood abruptly in his chair. Minerva glanced over in shock, but she only had a glimpse of something squirming on Belby's desk before the other Ravenclaws beside him quickly came over to look.

"Ew, ew, ew! Is it alive?"

"Ugh, that's freaky!"

Minerva hustled them out of the way, and when they cleared she was able to locate Belby's transfiguration attempt squirming on the desk. It had features like a baby doll, but was breathing. Belby had not successfully managed to convert his object from _being_ to _inanimate_, and so the object had the characteristics of a living baby doll. Rather unsettling, and extraordinarily like a human child, except less appealing.

"Ugh, it's alive!" shrieked one of the Ravenclaw girls as the baby doll—rabbit-baby—_thing_ began to wail again.

"Kindly retain a calm manner, Miss Lawrence," snapped Minerva, though she waved her wand to silence the disturbing object. Meanwhile, the Slytherins from the back of the room drew up to join the Ravenclaws at Belby's desk. They began pressing the crowd, eliciting a few rude words from the Ravenclaws that Minerva chose to ignore. "Mr. Belby," she said loudly over the growing chatter. "Would you care to explain to the class what was wrong with your transfiguration?"

Belby looked a little gray as he watched the thing squirm on his desk. "I, um…"

The thing opened its mouth to let out a silent wail, and the class erupted into more cries of disgust. Lawrence let out another shriek.

"Miss Lawrence!" snapped Minerva, but when the class didn't seem to want to settle, she called, "_Silence_."

They stopped talking, but the uncomfortable glances towards the silently screaming baby did not stop.

"Mr. Belby."

His eyes did not leave his transfigured objected as he answered, "I, um, I didn't alter its inanimate state first."

"That is correct, Mr. Belby," Minerva said, but when she soon realized she had lost the complete attention of the class—they seemed way too distracted by the excitement of it all and the approaching end of the period—she saved her lengthier explanation for later. "The rest of the class will care to take note of this. It was a good start, Mr. Belby. Five points to Ravenclaw."

Belby and the other Ravenclaws did not seem particularly thrilled with their points; they only continued to chatter amongst themselves as they stared at the disturbing partial transfiguration. One of the students reached out to poke it, but Minerva interrupted him before he could.

"That's enough, Mr. McKillan," she said sharply, and the student quickly withdrew his hand. To the class, she instructed, "Return your transfigured objects to their appropriate cages, and you are dismissed. I want three feet of parchment next class on the correct order of this particular transfiguration."

The students scattered, each returning to their desks to retrieve their transfiguration attempts and put them back in their cages. Minerva soon became aware that Belby was reaching for his own transfigured object, but she stopped him before he could pick it up.

"I will take care of it, Belby," she said. A look of relief spread across the boy's face. He had always had a weak stomach for those sorts of things. "Head to Potions now or Professor Slughorn will take points."

He didn't protest, just thanked her and quickly gathered up his books before he and his friends left the classroom. After all the students had cleared out, Minerva turned back to the half-transfigured object. It was disturbing, certainly, and she somehow didn't think it was appropriate to put it back in a cage, being so like a human baby. With a wave of her wand, she transfigured it back into a rabbit, and then placed it safely in with the other rabbits. It was a start, she supposed, but still not where she'd wanted her Transfiguration class to be.

* * *

"And lay it sideways!" James Potter hissed at Sirius Black. "It won't fit in otherwise."

"Oh Merlin," Sirius whispered, levitating the sleeping lion so it would fit in the broom closet. "This is gonna be brilliant."

James grinned in anticipation. It had been a lot of work, transfiguring Mr. Filtch's cat into a lion, but he knew it would be worth it. When it awoke in ten minutes' time, all the Houses would be in for dinner, and the Slytherins would receive a pleasant surprise. They had bewitched the cat to chase after anybody wearing green.

Remus standing nearby, watching them doubtfully and glancing every other minute down the deserted hallway. He shifted uncomfortably as he watched Sirius take out his wand and put the final touches on the paint on the lion's side. It read _Go Gryffindor _in large red letters. "I'm not so sure-"

Sirius cut him off with a sharp, "Oh, sod off, Moony. Stop worrying about everything."

"It's pretty obvious that we're behind this-"

"Moony, no one's going to figure it out."

"It says 'Go Gryffindor'. I'd say that at least narrows the field of suspicion. Plus after the firewhisky incident last week…"

"Hmm," Sirius said. He stood to survey the letters on the lion's flank. "Well, it took too long. We're not changing it now."

Remus looked extremely uncomfortable. "I'm a prefect…"

James reached forward to adjust the lion's mane. "No, really, we hadn't figured that out."

Remus shifted and glanced down the hallway again. "You don't understand. I could get in huge trouble for this…"

His discomfort increased when Sirius and James didn't seem to be paying him any notice. They simply continued their work.

"Professor McGonagall specifically said-"

"No offense, Moony, but we don't give a shit," Sirius said. "We're not taking off the letters."

"Yeah, they look too good anyway," said James. "All I have to say is that this charm better work. We've spent way too long on this gig. I don't think I've even started my Charms essay…"

Remus groaned.

"Hmm," said Sirius, frowning at the speckles on the lion's side.

"Or my transfiguration essay, for that matter."

"Is that a transfiguration error or do some lions have spots?"

"Huh? Oh, I dunno," said James. He looked over at the short, blond boy standing beside Remus. "Pete, the tie."

Peter Pettigrew handed him a red and gold striped Gryffindor tie.

"Dear Merlin," Remus groaned as James fixed it on the lion's head.

"If this doesn't work, we should make a run for it," Sirius said.

James sniggered. "From McGonagall or from Filch?"

"Or the lion," Sirius said, grinning.

"You think the cat would go after us?" Peter asked worriedly.

"Nah," said James.

"Even if we get detention, it'll be worth it. This is Gryffindor Quidditch pride we're talking about," said Sirius. He straightened and backed away. The cat—or lion, rather—looked peaceful lying there on the closet floor, but James knew looks could be deceiving. It would be awake in only a few minutes.

Sirius made a move to close the door, but James' shoe shot out to stop it.

"Wait, his tail!" James said. He reached in to toss the lion's tail out of the way. "Okay, there. Don't close it all the way or he might not be able to get out."

Sirius closed the door most of the way, and when they were certain that the lion would be able to easily open the door when it woke, he turned away, grinning madly.

This was going to be a good one; he knew it.

James felt his muscles bunch with energy, and he punched Remus in the shoulder to release some.

"Merlin's balls," he said as they headed towards the Great Hall. "This is going to be brilliant."

Sirius grinned widely. "I can't wait to see the look on the Slytherins' faces."

"I know," said James. "Serves them right for jinxing us."

"James," Remus said suddenly, his eyes fixed on a point near the entrance to the Great Hall, where a stern-looking witch in tartan robes was standing there, waiting for them.

"Right on to up the Gryffindor pride!" said Sirius.

"Maybe we should set him loose on the Quidditch field too!" James said. "Can you imagine?"

"James," Remus said warningly, nudging James in the shoulder. "Sirius, stop."

"I think Talkalot would flip!" said Sirius.

"Not as much as Vanity would have!" said James. "Ah, it's a shame she left! Remember her face when we pulled that aging charm?"

"Guys," Remus hissed. "_Guys_, McGonagall!"

"She looked like she had been shagged upside down-!"

"Sirius, James, _shhh_-"

"That girl had about as much control over her Quidditch team than you did with that muggle girl… oh, what was her name…?"

"If you're referring to Melinda, I deny ever loosing control-"

"_Shh_-!"

"Really? I heard she shagged you so hard that you couldn't walk the next day."

"_Guys_-"

"She did not!"

"Well, it _was_ your first time, Padfoot-"

"It was the other way around! She was getting so randy she was practically begging me to shag her-"

"_Mr. Black_!"

Sirius' head snapped up, and James coughed.

"Shit," muttered Sirius. Both turned around to see Minerva McGonagall scowling at them.

"Mr. Black, I would hope by your sixth year of Hogwarts that you would have something more original to talk about," she said, and James stifled a snicker. McGonagall shot him a look. "Black, Potter. I would like a word. Lupin, Pettigrew, please excuse your friends for a moment."

Remus and Peter looked extremely uncomfortable, both knowing what was lying ahead, but they did not question McGonagall's instructions. They passed them sympathetic glances, and both slipped into the Great Hall, leaving Sirius and James behind.

"Well, Professor," said James, giving her a lopsided grin. "I assume you're going to congratulate me on Gryffindor's recent win over Hufflepuff-"

"On the contrary, Mr. Potter," said McGonagall, looking severe over the rims of her glasses. Her lips were straight and firm, and they did not even twitch in amusement; whatever they had done had made her very displeased. "I am not here to further inflate your opinions of yourself. I think you'll soon find that the world around you is larger than your performance on the pitch."

Sirius frowned, and though it looked as though he might open his mouth, a firm look from McGonagall effectively silenced him. He winked at her instead.

"It has come to my attention a few moments ago when sorting sixth year papers that both your essays are, once again, absent," she told them, coolly. "I'm here to warn the both of you that if either of you fails to turn in another one of my essays, I will be forced to dismiss you from my class."

James stared at her. Sure, she'd docked points and put them in detention before, but she'd never made such a severe threat. "We both got outstanding on our O.W.L.s"

McGonagall's gaze hardened. "O.W.L. grades regardless, Mr. Potter."

Sirius shook his head and grinned. "We're your best students!"

McGonagall's brows rose dangerously high. "_Mr._ Black," she began, her nostrils flaring. "Do not be so entitled to think that your performance on the O.W.L.s, however respectable, will excuse you from the demands of my class. I require satisfactory performance from all of my students, and if you fail to meet these standards, as you repeatedly have, I will be forced to dismiss you."

"Oh, Professor…" began James with a smirk.

"Potter, I don't with to hear excuses," said McGonagall. "The wizarding world does not revolve around your whims."

"Professor, you not going to dismiss us," James scoffed.

"When even was the essay due?" Sirius asked her.

McGonagall's brows rose higher. "Monday, Black."

Monday? Wait, wasn't it due Wednesday?

Sirius snorted. "It's only a day late-"

"As I recall, Black, _all_ students are expected to abide by classroom rules. I assure you, your high opinion of yourself does not excuse you from the rules implemented on your peers."

"Professor," Sirius said, with a dismissive gesture. "Wouldn't you say that this is slightly ridiculous?"

"I assure you, I am taking this all very seriously," McGonagall told them, her lips hard. "This is only a warning, but I assure the both of you that if you do not start taking responsibility for your actions, I will be forced to follow through."

"We're your best students!" James scoffed. "You wouldn't dismiss us-"

It was the wrong thing to say. "_Mr. _Potter," McGonagall snapped, and both James and Sirius recoiled as her voice began to rise and her Scottish accent began to emerge. "Your ignorance is _astounding_, but as sure as Merlin is-"

A sudden roar from down the hallway drowned out the latter portion of her sentence, and James and Sirius froze. Then, as a second roar echoed down the hallway, they shared a gleeful look. Their prank was going as planned!

Well, technically, the lion was not supposed to regain consciousness yet; the spell was supposed to hold out for a full forty minutes, in which James and Sirius would have taken shelter amongst the Gryffindor table. Instead, it had been thirty-five. But neither bothered too much. At least it was working.

James could not help it; he and Sirius began to snicker. What a shock the Slytherins would soon receive. "And Gryffindor scores!" he whispered to Sirius, and the two chuckled harder.

McGonagall's furious gaze swung toward them, and James felt a very brief urge to run far away. She seemed to know exactly what was going on here. James half-expected her to disintegrate them on the spot, but when she opened her mouth, she didn't even yell. Her voice was low and controlled, but James knew it would combust if she was pushed much further.

"Would either of you care to explain the origins of that noise?"

Sirius and James stifled smirks.

"An escaped manticore?" Sirius offered.

"Nothing to do with us?" James suggested.

Suddenly, there was a screech from farther down the hallway, and a Slytherin fifth-year came running into the Great Hall, a giant lion on his tail. _Go Gryffindor _flashed in gold and red on the lion's flank.

"My office," snapped McGonagall as she hustled off after the Slytherin. "_Now_."

* * *

It took McGonagall fifteen minutes to sort out the complex animal transfiguration and care for the terrified Slytherins. By the time she reached her office, Sirius and James had been sitting there in the chairs before her desk for twenty minutes, laughing about what must be going downstairs and scheming about how they would worm out of this one. When the slammed door signaled her return, however, they immediately quieted. Though they were having fun, they knew she wasn't. And when McGonagall wasn't having fun, it was better for everyone to tune things down a bit. So instead they still watched her with identical grins, trying to loosen her stony expression.

She seated herself behind her desk, and only then did she look at them. Her gaze was severe and cold. When the silence extended uncomfortably and her gaze did not break, Sirius winked at her. McGonagall's lips didn't even twitch. When she spoke, her voice was terrible.

"Did you or did you not transfigure Mr. Filtch's cat into that lion?"

"Did you like it?" James asked her.

"It's for the coming Quidditch match," said Sirius.

"It took us an age to get the lettering right."

McGonagall looked dangerous. "Four Slytherins," she said. "I sent _four Slytherins_ to the Hospital Wing. And _two Hufflepuffs_."

"Merlin," said Sirius. "Only four."

"They could have been seriously injured," she snapped. "Of all the utterly senseless things to do-"

"Professor, the transfiguration was genius!" said James. "Did you notice? That's N.E.W.T. level work-"

"Potter," McGonagall snapped. "Be silent, for once, and recognize the seriousness of this situation. They could have been _mauled_. Do you not understand the severity-"

"Professor, honestly, no one was hurt," said Sirius. "It was a joke. We had fun."

McGonagall's nostrils flared. "Do the both of you not understand that this little prank of yours could have hurt others?" she barked. "When have either of you looked beyond yourselves and your friends and taken others' well-beings into account?"

Sirius and James fell into a silence, glancing at one another. Neither of them knew what to say to that.

"There is a line between innocent fun and dangerous fun, and you both have crossed it this morning," snapped McGonagall.

"Honestly, Professor, it wasn't that big of a deal," James said, trying to brush off her serious words.

"You never stop to consider the consequences of your actions," McGonagall snapped. "This is a continual cause for concern among the staff of this institution. If you continue to fail to learn this lesson, I'm afraid that you will go out into the wizarding world and suffer many disappointments."

"Professor…" began Sirius, with a small smirk.

"I don't want to hear it, Black," snapped McGonagall. "It's time the both of you learned a bit of responsibility. It's time the both of you learned how to look after someone else's needs."

"Professor-"

"Forty points will be taken from Gryffindor," said McGonagall.

Sirius and James frowned. Both of them knew that that wasn't bad at all, considering how upset she seemed.

"We get detention?" Sirius asked her.

McGonagall smiled thinly. "A week," she said. "Nine o'clock each evening, starting tomorrow. I will add on a day for each time you come late."

James' jaw dropped. A week? He had arranged a whole set of Quidditch strategy practices in those evenings. "It's Quidditch season, Professor-"

"Then I suppose you'll have to cope, Potter," she snapped.

"But I'm captain, I can't miss-"

"I haven't forgotten, Potter," she said. "I'm not changing my mind. The team will have to cope without you."

James might have argued with her, but one sharp glance was enough to make his jaw clamp closed. It was no use. Arguing would only make things worse.

"And there's another part of this," McGonagall told them.

"Another-"

McGonagall interrupted Sirius' protest by standing abruptly and making her way over to where there were cages of rabbits. She removed one of the rabbits and set it on the desk before her. James and Sirius stared at it for a moment, wondering if she had gone off her rocker, but soon, McGonagall waved her wand. The rabbit disappeared, and in its place was a crying object. It squirmed on her desk, its feet and chubby hands waving in the air…

"Is that… is that a _baby_?" asked Sirius, looking horrified.

"You are close, Mr. Black," McGonagall said, raising an eyebrow. "It is, technically, a baby doll. Although you will find that it has a physical appearance and mannerisms of a human child, and requires care just as any human being."

Sirius stared at the baby, mouth open. "That's disturbing."

McGonagall just pursed her lips. She waved her wand again, and a pair of pajamas appeared on the child. "Since the both of you seem to be lacking some vital qualities such as selflessness and responsibility, I believe it's about time that you learned some."

James stared at the baby. _No, no, no_. He knew where McGonagall's mind was going, and he didn't like it one bit.

"You will be caring for this baby for a month," she told them. "You will take it to class with you, feed it, change its nappy, care for it as you would a child. If the baby is healthy and content by the end of the month, you two will be off the hook. If not, then I'm afraid that I will have to find other methods of punishment, including possible expulsion from Quidditch and release of Hogsmeade privilege. Do not attempt to transfigure the baby back into something more manageable. It will not work, and I will know."

They could barely understand her words. They simply stared at the baby in shock. How could they even expect to care for it? They couldn't very well put it under their beds for a month! McGonagall would find out and James couldn't even bear the thought of missing out on the Quidditch season, not when their team was so promising!

"Congratulations," McGonagall told them with a humorless smile. She handed the child out for Sirius to take. "It's a boy."


	2. Just Turn it Off

Chapter Two: Just Turn it Off

Sirius held the baby out at arm's length as they exited McGonagall's office.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit…" he muttered, his lip curled in horror as he gazed at the baby's chubby, tearstained cheeks and trembling lips. When they reached the hallway and had made sure that no one was in sight, Sirius immediately put the baby on the ground and backed away.

They stared at it. Rosy cheeks, wisps of brown hair on the head, pudgy hands, and small baby teeth. It was awful.

"Okay," said James after a while. "Okay, this shouldn't be that bad."

The baby whimpered. Apparently it didn't like the cold floor.

"Dear Merlin," Sirius breathed, rubbing his face.

"Okay, so maybe babies aren't that difficult," James said. "They're like low maintenance humans. You feed them, change nappies. Can you think of anything else?"

Sirius shook his head. "Maybe putting them to bed."

"Okay," said James. "So we'll leave it in the dorm. We'll feed it in the morning, and then change its nappy later. Maybe one of us can come up at lunchtime or something."

"Right," said Sirius.

"Okay," said James.

The baby whimpered again. Its chubby hands curled up, and its mouth opened, revealing some baby teeth. Its eyes screwed shut.

"Okay," said James. "That's settled. Do… um… do you want to touch it?"

"Touch it?" echoed Sirius, eyes widening.

"Yeah, bring it to our room or something."

"Oh," said Sirius. "Yeah, I guess so."

They stared at it for a long while, and neither moved.

"Maybe we should levitate it or something."

"Okay."

Sirius waved his wand and the baby rose in the air. Its whimpers turned into cries.

"Bugger," said James, glancing around to make sure no one was in sight.

"Merlin, be quiet!" said Sirius to the baby.

It wasn't listening. Its cries only strengthened, and it began squirming, its limbs flailing mid-air.

"_Shush_!" James said. When the baby didn't respond, he glanced around the hall, gripping his hair. If anyone saw them with the baby, it would be beyond humiliating.

"James, James, in Agrippa's name shut it up," Sirius said. He was holding his wand out at arm length now, as if the baby was some type of firecrab that might blow.

"You shut it up," said James. "I don't know how!"

"I can't. I'm levitating it."

The baby's cries intensified, and James pointed his wand at it. "_Silencio_!" he said.

The baby's mouth continued to open, and tears continued to fall, but it was silent now. It made for a horrible sight. The baby's cheeks quickly turned red, and its eyes tightened.

James found himself relieved.

"Oh good," Sirius said. "I guess McGonagall didn't put any anti-silencing charms on it."

"Imagine if she had," James said, and the two shared a relieved chuckle. When their chuckles had faded, Sirius let out a weary sigh.

"What the hell are we gonna do, Prongs?"

James shook his head. "Take care of it, I guess. Don't think we have another choice."

"True," said Sirius. "So do you have the map with you?"

"Uh, no. It's in Peter's trunk."

"The invisibility cloak?"

James gave him a pointed look. "You used it last, you tell me."

A slow grin spread across Sirius' face. "Oh yeah."

"I don't know why the hell you had to ask about it. Seriously, mate, the things you do under that thing are downright disgusting. If it wasn't so valuable, I'd burn it."

"Thanks, mate." Sirius passed him a grin. "Believe me, it was worth it-"

"Seriously, I don't want to hear about it," James interrupted, but Sirius' grin did not die. For a while they stood there, Sirius grinning and James irritated, until at last Sirius spoke up.

"So then we have no method of getting back to the dorm without anyone seeing."

"You don't have it with you, then?"

"The cloak? No. It's up in the dorm."

"We could take the Blue Passage."

"No good, mate. The Hufflepuffs use that one to go to Divination."

"Well then I'm out of ideas."

They faded into silence again, and they looked around the hallway as if it could give them answers.

"I know," said Sirius. "We'll just put it in your bag."

"What?" said James. "No."

"Yes," said Sirius. "Seriously, Prongs. It's not that bad."

"You can't be serious. What? No! No!" James said as Sirius began to levitate the still-crying baby towards him. "We're not putting it in my bag. This is new; my parents just sent it from Thailand-"

"You're such a prat!"

"No! _No_, Sirius! Get _that thing away_! No, get it-!" James ducked as the baby sailed over his head.

"James!"

"Sirius! Stop it!"

"James, seriously, mate-"

"No! Put it in yours!"

"I don't have room in mine. I'm carrying our Charms text."

"So?"

"So you owe me!"

"I do not owe you! It's your fault yours caught fire-"

"_Moony's_ fault-"

"It's not going in my bag!"

"It _is_," Sirius insisted. "Or I'm telling Evans about her hair ribbon."

James turned pale. "You wouldn't."

"I would."

"Mate, you promised-"

"Just open your damn bag and you don't have to worry about it."

James cursed, but opened his bag. Sirius levitated the baby inside. "That's emotional blackmail, you know that?"

Sirius just grinned at him. "Okay, make sure it doesn't get squished," he said.

"If it dies, I will not hesitate to blame you," James told him.

"Ooh. Touchy, mate."

"This was a new bag!"

"And that was Evans' new hair ribbon."

"Ugh!" James said in frustration. "Alright. Just shut up about that, alright?"

"Al_right_, alright."

Sirius zippered James' backpack shut with the baby inside.

"Maybe I should leave a gap for air," Sirius thought aloud.

"I dunno," said James impatiently. He could feel his bag squirming. "Just- just get it over with. Ugh, I can feel it moving."

"Don't bounce around too much, Prongs."

"What, you think I'm going to go play Quidditch or shag someone? I don't think so. I'm heading straight for the dorm."

"Okay, keep your knickers on," said Sirius.

"This was a new bag," James said mournfully.

"_Merlin_, you're like a girl."

They managed to avoid conversation with passing students as they made their way up the Great Staircase and up the tower to the Gryffindor dorm. They received a couple of sly thumbs up from some Gryffindors, and some glares from the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, but for the most part no one tried to engage with them. Both were relieved to reach the portrait hole. The sooner they got this figured out, the better.

"You don't think it's suffocating?" James murmured to Sirius when they were moving across the Common Room. It was completely empty, with most students either in class or at lunch. An abandoned chess set lay on one of the tables.

"Nah," said Sirius. "It still moving?"

"A little," James said. "You don't think it'd vomit on my bag, do you?"

They headed up the staircase to their dorm, where James immediately opened his bag and levitated the baby out. The thing was still screaming silently, its face red and eyes puffy.

"Maybe it's hungry," said Sirius.

"Okay…" said James. He levitated the baby onto Remus' bed and peered inside his bag, checking to see if there was any damage. "Do we have anything in here?"

"Pete has some Bertie's Beans."

Somehow James doubted that that was the best choice of food. "That's kind of a choking hazard."

"Oh, right," Sirius said, uninterested. "Babies eat soft food."

James ruffled the back of his head. "We, um, could head down to eat and bring back mashed potatoes or something."

"Let's head down right now. I'm starving. We're going to miss Charms at this rate."

"Ugh, still haven't done that essay," said James, gripping his hair. "Okay, we should go really soon. I want to finish it before Flitwick gives me detention."

Sirius looked over at the squirming baby. "Where should we leave it?"

"Somewhere where it might not crawl away. Do you know how to conjure a playpen?"

"Uhh, no. I have no idea." Sirius stared at the baby for a moment, then snorted. "How about _conjurus playpen-us_?"

"I don't think that's gonna work, mate."

They stared at it for a long time. It had rolled over and was currently trying to make its way to Remus' pillow. Maybe the pillow looked like a giant marshmallow or something. James didn't really care. The mere sight of the baby on Remus' bed made him uncomfortable. He still didn't know how he felt about the baby in their dorm.

"What if we jinxed the curtains shut on Moony's bed?" Sirius suggested. "And put sticking charms on the curtains so the baby can't leave?"

James watched the baby reach Remus' pillow. A chubby hand reached out and made grasping motions with its fingers. "Yeah, alright."

With that issue resolved, the two boys made their way to lunch in the Great Hall, and all thoughts of the baby was pushed from their minds as drama about pretty redheads and Quidditch pranks drew prominent. They finished classes and dinner, and reached the Common Room later that evening still chatting about the hostility surrounding the upcoming game against Slytherin.

"Seriously," Peter was saying when they were climbing through the portrait hole, "Mackenzie says that at least two players were jinxed in the library this morning-"

"Bloody gits, they are," said Sirius. "You'd think Slughorn would put a leash on some of them."

"Come on, I hardly think they were unprovoked," Remus said. "Not after the prank this morning." Sirius rolled his eyes. "Seriously, I'm surprised you two weren't given a month's detention for that-"

"You helped too," Sirius reminded him.

"So you got to witness it, then," James said eagerly to Remus as they crossed the Common Room, heading for the dorm stairs. "How'd it go over?"

Remus fixed him with a look. "It was chaotic. I think we forgot that cats can get skittish, even those transfigured as lions."

James frowned.

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "So…?" He waved his hand to indicate that Remus should continue.

Remus let out a long breath. "So it went all over the place, not just at the Slytherins."

"Yeah, McGonagall mentioned some Hufflepuffs…" James said.

"But you took pictures, right?" Sirius asked him.

They rounded the corner and began mounting the stairs. Remus went first, so they could not see the expression on his face when he firmly said, "_No_."

"Moony!"

James let out an exasperated sigh. "Moony, we gave you a camera!"

Remus shrugged.

"Pete?" prompted Sirius, looking back at the small boy.

"Nah," said Peter. "McGonagall was too close."

"_Seriously_," Sirius said. "Seriously."

"Seriously disappointed in you blokes," James said.

"What were we supposed to do with McGonagall right there?" Peter asked him. "She looked really mad."

"You're supposed to sacrifice one bloody evening to preserve a lifetime memory," Sirius told him. They reached the landing and turned to enter their dorm.

"She would have confiscated the camera," Remus reminded him.

Sirius looked really irritated. "Sod off…"

Then, just as Remus opened the door to their dorm, a sudden, rancid stench rushed out to meet them.

"Dear Merlin-" Sirius said, gagging.

"What in the _bloody hell_…?" Remus said, eyes watering.

They stood frozen in the doorway for a few moments, trying to get past the sudden wave of nausea that accompanied the stench.

"It smells like something died in here," Peter said, muffled behind his hand.

"Oh, Merlin," Remus gasped, clasping a hand over his nose. He quickly cast an air-cleansing charm. "James, if it's your cat, I swear to Merlin-"

"_Oh, shit_." James' hands leapt up to his hair, and he suddenly glanced at Sirius.

"Are you kidding me right now?" said Remus. "James, keep your bloody cat _away from the Fluxweed_."

"Oh Merlin," Sirius breathed, looking at James. "We forgot."

"_Of course_ you bloody well forgot!" Remus said.

James and Sirius shared a moment of horror.

"Moony, it's, um… it's not the cat," James said.

Remus frowned. "Then what is it?"

Sirius and James slowly approached Remus' bed curtains and James removed the sticking charm Sirius had put on them.

"It's worse," said Sirius, looking like he really didn't want to see what was behind.

James pulled the curtains back, and there on Remus' bedcovers was the baby, its face red and puffy, mouth opened in a miserable scream, soiled and releasing a horrid stench.

Remus' mouth dropped open. Peter's eyes grew wide, and he clapped another hand to his mouth. He released a muffled cry from behind his hand, not taking his eyes from the baby. Then, after the moment of pure shock, Remus' expression slowly drew livid. His gaze turned towards Sirius and James.

"What _the hell_ is that thing."

"I can't believe we forgot," breathed James.

"Damn it," snapped Remus, his eyes flashing. "What the _hell_ is that thing? Why the _hell_ is it on my bed?"

Sirius let out a nervous chuckle. "Moony, Moony, you have to understand, mate-"

"We didn't know it was going to… get this messy-"

"It was only temporary-"

"You _put it there_?" snapped Remus.

"Well…" said James.

"We didn't really-"

Remus looked shocked. "_What the hell is it_?!"

"Why, it's a baby, Remus," Sirius told him. "Surely you've gotten _The Talk_-"

"A baby!" Remus said. "Why is there a baby in our dorm?"

Sirius made a face. "Well, it's complicated-"

"Wait," Remus snapped. "You brought it up here?"

"Well… yes, there wasn't anywhere else to put it-"

"So you stole it!"

"No!" James said, shocked. "No, of course not!"

"No!" said Sirius. "It's ours."

"What?" said Peter.

"No!" said James, appalled at Sirius' correction. "No, not _ours_ ours. It's McGonagall's."

"It's McGonagall's baby?" Peter echoed.

"No! It's not her _baby_," James said. "It's technically a partially transfigured rabbit."

Remus and Peter stared at him.

"Then what's it doing in our room? It smells," Peter said.

"A rabbit?" Remus echoed. "You transfigured a rabbit and brought it up to our dorm."

"No, McGonagall transfigured the rabbit," James told him. "Into a baby. We have to take care of it for a month."

Remus' eyes darted from James to Sirius and back. "Is this a self-appointed position or…?"

"It's a part of the punishment, Moony," Sirius said. "That's why McGonagall only took off forty points."

"She also gave you a week's detention," Peter pointed out.

"She was really upset," James said. "She gave us three punishments."

"Why would she give you a transfigured rabbit?" Remus asked them.

Sirius and James shared a glance. "We told you. She wants us to take care of it for a month," Sirius said. "If we do a bad job or it dies, she'll take away all Quidditch and Hogsmeade privileges."

Remus' eyebrow rose. "Really?"

"Yeah," said James.

"Why would she do give you a baby? Kind of unorthodox."

"She thinks it'll teach us responsibility," James said.

"Y'know, thinking about other people and consequences of our actions and all that," Sirius added.

"So you two idiots figured you could leave it in the dorm, then?" Remus said, unimpressed. "Alone. On my bed."

Sirius and James looked uncomfortably at one another.

"Moony…" Sirius started.

"We were planning on coming up sooner with food," James said. "We forgot."

"It's not our fault that Melanie Rein has huge tits," said Sirius.

"I'm still convinced that's why Morgan Brown snogged her last week-"

"Think he copped a feel?"

"Probably. I reckon I would too if I-"

"Guys, shut it," snapped Remus.

They looked at him.

"Moony, I know you're upset, but-"

"_No_," said Remus, effectively cutting Sirius off. "I want to say some things before you continue."

James and Sirius blinked in surprise.

"Oh-kaaay…" said James, unsure of where this was going. "Go ahead, Moony."

Remus straightened up to his full height, pulling his bookbag strap tighter against his chest. "First of all," he said. "I want you both to take care of the disgusting mess on my bed. Secondly, if you both think that you can get through this month without taking better care of this baby, you both are wrong. You can't just leave it lying around, and neither me nor Pete are going to take care of it for you."

"Mate, c'mon," Sirius began.

"We aren't," said Remus. "That's final."

"Pete?" Sirius said.

Peter looked uncomfortably from Sirius to Remus.

"He's not either," Remus said firmly.

"Pete, you'll look after it, won't you?" Sirius asked him. "Even just for an afternoon or something?"

Peter's eyes darted from Remus to Sirius. "I, um," he said. "I don't think McGonagall would like that. I think you guys should take care of it."

"We all participated in the prank!" James pointed out. "Why should only Padfoot and I take the blame?"

"Because you two were the ones that thought of it," Remus said. "Peter and I didn't want anything to do with it. And because apparently McGonagall is fed up with you."

"You and Pete let us do it, if I recall," James said. "You even helped a bit."

"Don't try to push this on us," Remus said. Peter squirmed at being caught in the middle. "We didn't want to participate in the first place. We tried to tell you so, but when do you ever listen to us? This is _your_ punishment, so you have to go through with it. The only reason that you don't want to accept it like a regular punishment is because you're too embarrassed."

"We're not _embarrassed_," James snorted.

"Yes, you are," Remus said. "And you're lazy. But you can't slack off on this. You shouldn't be treating the baby like this. It's abuse."

"It's not even a real baby," Sirius pointed out. "It's a living baby doll."

"It's the same idea," Remus said. "And… and if you don't try harder, then I'm sure McGonagall is going to notice. Do you think leaving the baby around for a month is going to help it? It's going to get stressed, sick, infected. It might die. Is that worth no Quidditch or Hogsmeade for the rest of the year?"

James and Sirius shifted uncomfortably.

"Plus you'd be murderers," Peter said.

Remus nodded, immediately seizing the hint of support. "You see? Pete's right."

"Oh, come on, Moony! Don't you think murder is kind of a severe term for this?" Sirius said.

"No, I don't," Remus said. "It's murder. And right now this is bordering on neglect. And I want my bed cleaned up right now."

"Don't you think you're taking this too seriously?" James said.

"No, I don't," Remus said. "Do what you have to do. Take it to class, feed it, carry it around. But our dorm room is not a childcare center. There's not even anyone here to look after it. It could vomit and suffocate. It could eat something it's not supposed to. It could get seriously hurt. And have you ever heard of SIDS?"

They looked blankly at him. "Is that like AIDS?" Sirius asked.

"No, it's when infants die suddenly in their sleep," Remus said, clearly unimpressed by their lack of knowledge on the topic. "It's short for Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. Doctors still don't know why it happens. The babies just don't wake up."

"Maybe from an STD?" Sirius suggested.

"Idiot, babies don't have sex," James said.

"It doesn't have to be from sex," Sirius said. "I read this somewhere. It can be transmitted down from the birth canal or something."

"I'm pretty sure that's HIV."

"What's HIV?" Peter asked James.

"Human Immuno Virtual," James said. "It's muggle." To Sirius he said, "HIV _is_ an STD."

"HIV causes AIDS."

"I seriously doubt that rabbits or baby dolls have STDs," Peter said.

"Right, so we don't have to worry about it," James said.

"Guys, shut it," Remus said. "SIDS isn't caused by an STD."

"Then what's SIDS caused by?" Sirius asked him.

"I _told_ you. Doctors don't know."

"Well it's not our fault that muggle Healers are awful," Sirius said. "Are they sure it's not a curse or something?"

Remus looked shocked. "Sirius, they've checked. No one knows. My _point_ is that you might put the baby down and it might not wake up."

"No more Quidditch?" James said.

"For _Merlin's sake_," snapped Remus. "Is that all you think about?"

"Okay, okay, Moony!" James said, a bit surprised by Remus' frustration. "Seriously. We'll take better care of it."

Remus looked relieved. "Really?"

"Really."

Remus looked in Sirius' direction, where the handsome boy was leaning against the bedpost, looking forlornly at the baby still crying on the bedsheets there. "Sirius, you too?"

"I guess so."

"Okay, then," Remus said, seeming surprised that he had convinced Sirius and James so easily. "Firstly, you can go clean up the damn mess that your baby made on my bed, then."

"It's not _ours_," James pointed out, but went to vanish the mess on Remus' bed anyway. Sirius watched his mate for a few beats, and then with a long sigh, he hoisted himself off the bedpost and began circling the bed, casting air-freshening charms around Remus' curtains. Little curls of cream smoke puffed from the tip of his wand and dissolved into the air, leaving the scent of clean linens. Remus relaxed as the stench quickly faded and his bed quickly returned to its original state.

"Better?" James asked him, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"Yeah," said Remus, relieved. "Maybe you should take the silencing charm off the baby while you're at it."

Sirius cast his last air-freshening charm over Remus' pillow. "Why should we do that?"

"Because a baby's cries are good," Remus said. "They're evolutionarily beneficial."

Sirius looked doubtful. "You didn't hear him before, Moony. I beg to differ."

"It doesn't matter how annoying they are," Remus said. "A baby's cries let his parents know that he needs something."

"We're not his parents," James said.

Remus looked irritated. "Or guardians, if you'd prefer," he said. "Just take it off."

"How about we wait until after we feed it?" Sirius said.

Remus rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter. Just make sure you do it."

"Okay," said James. He began to reach towards the crying baby, but stopped halfway there. He looked at Sirius. "You want to do it, mate?"

"Nah," Sirius said, his nose slightly wrinkled as he observed James. "He's all yours."

James set the baby up by his armpits, and the baby's distress lessened a bit.

"Alright," said Sirius. "Who has food?"

"You're going to need soft food," Peter said.

"Thanks, Pete," James said, a bit sarcastically.

"Well, I have a muffin," Peter said.

Sirius nodded. "That might work."

Remus watched as Peter rummaged through his bag and pulled out a muffin. It was wrapped in a tissue and looked flat.

"It, um, it might have gotten a little squished," Peter said, blushing as he turned the muffin in his hand. "But it's from dinner so it's not old."

"It works," Sirius said, taking the muffin from Peter and peeling off the tissue.

"You know you're going to have to get more substantial food in the future," Remus said. "He's going to need a balanced diet, with fruits and vegetables-"

"Moony, just calm down," Sirius said, seating himself on the bed next to James and the baby. "It's just for now, until we can figure this out." He pulled off the muffin's wrapper.

"Okay," said James. "Maybe let him smell it."

Sirius waved the muffin under the baby's nose, and the baby's cries quickly stopped. He began reaching for the muffin with chubby fists, but Sirius held it out of reach.

James frowned as the baby's face screwed up again. "Wait, what are you doing? He wants it."

Sirius broke off a small piece of the muffin and offered it back to the baby. The baby seized it immediately and stuffed it in his mouth.

"Ah," said James, watching the baby munch contentedly. "There we go."

They watched him eat the muffin piece by piece, and when he was finished, Sirius waved his wand over the baby, lifting the silencing charm.

"Alright," Sirius said. "We're going to have to pay attention, but if the baby starts his damned nonstop crying again, I'm putting the charm back on."

"Agreed," James said.

"He looks better now that he's eaten," Peter observed.

"Probably because he was really hungry," Remus said.

They watched the baby for a few moments. It seemed considerably more content now that it had been fed and its nappy had been cleaned, and its attention was quickly shifting from the sticky crumbs on its fingers to the long drawstrings on James' sweatshirt.

"Watch it, mate," Sirius warned James. "Your sweatshirt might get saliva-y."

James reached forward just in time to steady the baby, who was leaning precariously towards him. When it was upright again, the baby whined, apparently discontent that James' drawstrings were still out of reach.

Sirius sighed and ripped his gaze away. "So where the hell is he going to sleep tonight?" he asked Remus. "I'm guessing you don't want to share your bed."

"Hell, no," said Remus, unamused. "We're going to have to build a crib."

* * *

_There's chapter two, and the disaster is just beginning to unfold! Thanks for reading and please review! On a side note, don't trust anything you hear about SIDS, AIDS, HIV, and STDs in this chapter. Parts are true, other parts are inaccurate. Our boys, though well-meaning, are woefully misinformed. Do your own research before spreading awareness! _


	3. Early Morning in the Gryffindor Tower

_Where did our boys leave off? Let's see..._

* * *

Chapter Three: Early Morning in the Gryffindor Tower

Building the crib was surprisingly easy. Though none of the Gryffindor boys knew how to transfigure objects into cribs, they quickly decided that the best way to go was to work with what was in their dorm. They used their trunks to construct a frame and walls, and then put a surplus of blankets in between and around for padding. Then, around ten o'clock at night, they put the baby there, cast some anti-liquid charms all over, and hoped to Merlin that it would shut up and fall asleep soon.

They worked on their homework in the Common Room, so as not to wake up the baby, and when they had finished socializing, teasing Mary MacDonald, and writing their Potions essays, they headed to bed.

Classes were at eight in the morning, but it was around five o'clock when they were woken with a piercing wail.

"Huunngh?" Sirius said, sitting upright in bed. He could see the baby standing upright in his makeshift crib, clutching the trunk edge and looking at him with tear streaks down his face. Sirius felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He swore loudly and lay back down.

"Padfoot," mumbled Remus from the other bed when it was apparent that Sirius was not about to rise. "Get it."

"…James' turn," Sirius groaned out.

"Well, he's not awake yet," Remus mumbled. "Can you take care of it?"

"He will be soon."

The conversation dropped for a few moments, but as the baby's cries grew louder, Remus put a pillow over his head and grumbled, "Sirius, take care of the damn baby."

The cries were beginning to grate on Sirius' nerves. Knowing that he couldn't ignore the thing for much longer, his eyes snapped open again. An arm launched itself from under his covers and he searched his bed area for anything that he could throw.

When he found nothing in reach, he felt his irritation peak, and so in a fluid motion, he stripped off his pajama shorts, rolled them in a ball, and chucked them over at James. They landed on the mess of James' hair, but useless sack of a Gryffindor still didn't even stir. He was hanging half-off his bed, his mouth gaping against the sheets.

The baby's cries heightened. Peter sat up in his bed and blearily rubbed his eyes. "Wha's… goin' on?"

Peter's jumbled question did nothing for Sirius's patience. He swore again and fumbled for the wand on his bedside table. When his fingers had found it, he shot a stinging hex towards the snoring lump he called his best friend.

"BLARGH!" said the boy, struggling against the cocoon he had buried himself in.

"Get up," Sirius commanded.

"Hurgh… it's lunch time," said James, sitting up, his eyelids half shut and hair sticking up at the back of his head.

"You prat," snapped Sirius. "Take care of the baby."

"Baby?" James' eyes cleared a bit as he set his gaze on the wailing child at the center of his room.

"Shut it up!" yelled Remus from underneath his pillow.

"Baby?" said James. "…Oh, damn." He squinted at the child for a few moments, with an expression akin to extreme disappointment, and then shot a silencing charm at it.

The cries halted. "Oh, good," said Sirius. He lay back down in bed.

"Better," mumbled Peter, his head hitting the pillow again.

The dorm room faded into silence, but just when Sirius' mind was about to fade to another dream, Remus shot up in bed, suddenly awake.

"Wait, did you silence it?" he said incredulously to Sirius.

Sirius only vaguely registered the words. "Wha…?" he mumbled, his face muffled in his pillow.

"Did you silence the baby?" Remus said, aghast.

Why was Remus so concerned? Sirius mind was fuzzy, and Remus' words weren't making much sense. Without removing his face from the pillow, Sirius made a half-hearted motion with his hand that he hoped would be conducive. It flopped for a moment in the vague direction of James, and then fell back to his bedsheets.

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Remus. "You did, didn't you?"

Remus' voice was steadily becoming sharper, and Sirius didn't like it. "Moony," he mumbled, his voice pained. "It's too early. Lower your volume."

"Why did you silence the baby?" Remus said angrily. "You're not supposed to do that."

He was still talking, and Sirius' dream was slipping from his grasp. "Moony," he groaned. "Shut up."

"Sirius, fix him now."

"It's _James_," Sirius said. "He did it."

Remus turned his gaze towards the snoring mass by Sirius, brought out his wand, and sent a stinging hex towards James. James balked as what felt like an electrical current swept through his body.

"WHAT? WHAT THE HELL?" The lump that was James wiggled around until a head popped out. He slapped on his glasses and his furious eyes found Remus. "_TWICE_! MOONY, WHAT THE HELL?"

"Did you set a silencing charm on the baby?" Remus demanded.

"What?" said James, brows furrowing. He looked over at the still-sobbing child in the room. "No."

"You did," added Sirius' muffled voice.

"I don't remember!" James said, thinking. "I… wait, I might have."

"So take it off," snapped Remus. "And take care of it!"

"It's Sirius' turn!"

"It's your bloody turn to do it!"

"How is it my turn?" demanded James. "This is the first morning it's been here!"

"Sirius said it was your turn!"

"Sirius was lying!"

"Guys," said a small voice from the fourth bed. "Please be quiet."

"I don't care if Sirius was lying!" snapped Remus. "Take care of it."

James growled in frustration, swung off the bed, and headed towards the baby, punching Sirius on his way by.

"Ooof."

James waved the silencing charm off the baby, and a wailing sound filled the room once more.

"No!" said Sirius.

"Shut up, you great prat," snapped James. He lifted the baby up out of the makeshift crib and immediately recoiled. "Ugh! This one's got a rotten nappy." He waved his wand and the nappy cleaned itself. James glanced down at the blankets below, checking to see that they were still clean.

"Maybe it would be a good idea to just get a new one-" Remus began from his bed.

"Shut it, Moony," snapped James. "Do you want to do it?"

Remus glared at him. "I'm just trying to help."

"You're trying to make things more difficult."

"I'm trying to advocate the well-being of this child-"

"It's not a child! It's a doll that happens to have life-like characteristics!"

"Same idea!"

Peter's voice drifted from under his covers. "Can you two argue in another room?"

Though Peter's request might have made sense on another day, James was tired and irritated. "Peter, be quiet," he snapped at him.

"Don't yell at Peter," Remus said indignantly. "You're being too loud! You need to calm down-!"

"It's five o-bloody-clock in the morning, Remus," snapped James, shooting an angry glance at the cold face of the magic clock on their wall. "I got five hours of sleep and now I'm trying to shut this damn thing up-"

"Some people go with less sleep-"

"I'm a teenager!" James snapped over the baby's heightening cries; the baby was apparently growing uncomfortable with all the yelling. "I'm supposed to get sleep! I'm not supposed to be caring for a baby, much less one that's not my own!"

"You have to be responsible," Remus reminded him.

"Ugh!" said James, trying to shift the baby's weight, which was paining his hip. He didn't want to hear Remus' sense right now. It was five o-bloody-clock in the morning.

"When you have a baby, you'd better bloody well take better care of it."

"I'm not planning on having one until I'm at least thirty-five," snapped James.

Remus snorted.

James huffed, turning his attention to the wailing child in his arms. "And how the hell do I shut this thing up?"

Remus opened his mouth to answer, but was soon interrupted as Sirius abruptly launched himself out of bed, startling the both of them into silence. Looking exceedingly annoyed, Sirius stomped over to his trunk, threw open the lid, and began shifting though his stuff. Things were thrown this way and that, until the boy finally reached what he was looking for. A bruised apple was withdrawn, and with a glare, he whirled it at James.

"OUCH," James snapped as the apple hit his arm. "You _bloody prat_, I'm only holding the damn baby. Should I have dropped it to catch your bloody fruit? And where the hell are your bloody pants?"

But Sirius was already buried back in his bed, his head under his pillow. Not that James had expected a reply. His best mate had always been extra difficult in the morning.

Remus rose from his bed and made his way toward James, straightening his pajama trousers as he went. He held out his arms to James. "Here," he sighed, and James handed him the crying baby, suddenly feeling shame wash over him at the childishness of it all. "Peel the apple and give it to him."

James retrieved the apple from the ground, glaring at the lump that was Sirius all the while. He performed a charm that vanished the apple peel, and then sliced up the apple into small pieces.

"I don't think yesterday's muffin agreed with him," Remus said when James offer the apple to the baby and the baby turned his face away.

"Why?"

"Well, he kind of smells. His stomach is probably uneasy."

"Well then what can we do?"

Remus put his wand against the baby's stomach. "I spend a lot of time with Madam Pomfrey. _Venter placare_."

A golden glow came from Remus' wand, and James watched it absorb into the baby's pajamas. "I thought you said you didn't want to be a healer."

"I said it was unrealistic, not that I didn't want to do it," Remus said, sounding suddenly weary. He let out a sigh, and they waited as the child's whimpers quieted.

Knowing that Remus was referring to the workplace laws against his "furry condition" and not quite knowing how to respond, James settled with handing the baby the slice of apple. He was relieved when the baby took it and put it in his mouth.

"Good," said Remus and the tiny mouth began to work at the apple. "I'm glad he likes it. This should probably be easier on his stomach."

"I hope so," said James.

"Some foods have stronger spices and such," said Remus. "It probably contributed to some of the stomach ache."

James nodded.

They watched the baby for a little while, as he munched at the pieces of fruit. James felt himself relaxing a bit, and he seated himself beside Remus to study the baby. Its brown hair stood up a bit, but his dark eyes shone intelligently at them. Remus bounced him a bit, and a small, toothy smile spread across the baby's face.

"Y'know, it's not that bad when it's not crying," said James.

"Yeah, I reckon so," Remus said.

"We're going to have to read up on baby food," James said.

Remus reached out toward the baby's hand, and the baby gripped his finger. "Probably."

"Or at least start storing food from mealtimes," James said. "D'you think the house-elves could make something?"

"Probably."

James thought they probably could. "Hm," he said, already brainstorming.

It was quiet for a while, and then Remus said, "You know you're going to have to take him to class?"

"What?" James' brightening thoughts came to an abrupt halt.

Remus fixed him with a look. "You're going to have to take the baby to class."

James frowned. "No," he said. "It shouldn't be a problem leaving him here."

"It's not a good idea," Remus said. "He could choke, hurt himself, start crying. You're not supposed to leave babies alone, James."

"Well, I know that," James grumbled.

"Okay…" said Remus. "So maybe you should take it to class."

"I don't even have permission from McGonagall to do that," said James. "Can you imagine if we walked into Slughorn's with a baby on our hip? 'Yes, hello, Professor. This is baby Freddie. Don't worry- he's very friendly. Do you mind if we put him in the storage cabinet while we work with the rest of your _toxic potions_?'"

"No need to get so aggressive," said Remus, recoiling a bit. "McGonagall probably gave them a warning."

"Ugh," said James, running his hands through his hair. He knew Remus was probably right. "Can you imagine what the other students are going to say? We're never going to hear the end of this."

"Probably not," Remus said, a smile twitching on his lips. "I'll bet a lot of Hufflepuffs and Slytherins feel that it's deserved."

"And my Quidditch team!" James added mournfully. "How will I tell them that I can't make practice because I have detention and have to babysit?"

Remus shrugged. "Carefully," he said.

James just shook his head.

The other boys got up around seven, and they spent the morning fighting for the shower, fighting as to who got the burnt tie, and fighting as to who should have to carry the baby down to breakfast. James eventually won the last (and most important) argument, so Sirius, in a huff of annoyed acquiescence, shoved James out of the way, grabbed the last good tie, and budged to get into the shower first. And thus the conflict was resolved.

It took them all about forty-five minutes to shower and dress—due to the fact that Sirius spent a good thirty minutes in the loo—and by that time, there was no time to go get breakfast. They ended up devouring some of Peter's safer-coloured Every-Flavoured Beans and then left it at that.

"Just carry him on your hip," James told Sirius when they were grabbing their bags to head to Defense Against the Dark Arts. The baby was sitting on Peter's bed, waiting to be picked up.

"I'm not going to carry him on my hip," Sirius said, adjusting his bag for the third time. "It makes me look like a grandmum."

"You're going to look like a grandmum either way," James told him. "When has any Hogwarts student ever carried a baby to class like this?"

"I'm sure that someone's gotten knocked up at some point in Hogwarts' history," Sirius grumbled.

"And then they dropped out of school or left the baby with their parents," James finished, and Sirius made a dismissive noise. "It's not like Hogwarts has a day care."

James watched him reach down and pick the baby up by its armpits, setting the baby on his hip. "Unless you'd prefer to use a baby carrier," James joked. "Y'know, strap the baby to your chest."

Sirius glared at him. "I'm going to remind you that you have baby duty following lunch. So though you're enjoying this now, you should know that you'll soon be going through the same thing."

James grinned. "Oh, brighten up," he said.

"Easy for you to say…"

"We'll have to make it fun."

Sirius snorted disdainfully.

"Can you imagine all the rumors we could spread?"

Sirius didn't reply to that, but James saw the small hint of a smirk on Sirius' lips as the two boys followed Remus and Peter down the Dormitory Stairs.

Seeing the expressions on some of the students' faces was the most amusing thing James had witnessed since the Toilet Bash of 1975. Though no one stopped them in the hallway—James suspected they were too bewildered by the sight of a baby in the number—the baffled double takes and the open-mouthed stares made bringing the baby worth it. In fact, no one made any comments until James and Sirius had finally seated themselves in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Behind them, Alfie King and Eva Rosenburn, the two beaters of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, stared as Sirius sat the baby on the desk and used his and James' stack of books to construct a backrest.

"Potter…" began Rosenburn, clearly unsettled by the normalcy with which Sirius and James were handling the situation. Her eyes were glued to the baby, who seemed to be content in the Defense classroom; he was eagerly looking around, sucking his fingers and bouncing his legs on the desk.

James turned around and winked at her. "Hey, Burns," he said, immensely enjoying her confusion. "How're those Quidditch drills going?"

Though it looked like Burns had been about to ask him about the baby, James' comment about their training schedule—which had come to James' knowledge despite the best efforts of Hufflepuff's captain—seemed to further perturb her. She frowned at him. "How do you know about those?"

"A team should always know their competition," James told her, grinning.

"Gludgeon told you, didn't he?" she said, looking like she already knew the answer. When James shrugged, she grumbled, "That prat."

"Don't take it too harshly," James said, as Rosenburn's eyes came to rest once more on Sirius and the baby. "We'll beat your team anyway."

"Yeah, yeah," Rosenburn said distractedly, her gaze still not faltering. "Potter, what's with the baby?"

"Oh," James said, pretending to just notice the baby slobbering over their desk. "That's, um, that's our new experiment."

"Experiment?" echoed Rosenburn.

"Um, yeah," said James, grinning and ruffling his hair. He could spot Evans out of the corner of his eye, seating herself next to Marlene McKinnon. "We're testing the brain activity of babies subjected to a learning level higher than their own."

Rosenburn blinked. "Oh," she said. "That's… interesting."

"Yeah," said James. "We're going to have him for a while."

"A month," added Sirius from where he was steadying the baby from falling off the desk.

"We got special permission from McGonagall," said James.

Rosenburn watched the baby try to place one of Sirius' quills in his mouth. "Oh," she said.

"Isn't the learning level a little too high?" King spoke up beside her. "It just seems a bit far-fetched. Babies are constantly subjected to higher learning levels; that's not anything new. And I'm not sure how you would even measure that."

"With talent and ingenuity," Sirius told him. And as if that settled it, he lounged back in his seat, tucking his arms behind his head.

King frowned, but before he could make a reply, the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Gordon entered the classroom and set her books down on the desk. When she had finished, she turned around and looked them over.

"Good morning, everybody," she said. She wore her usual astronomical earrings—they were crescent moons today—and maroon robes that made the white hair resting over her shoulders look stringy. "Today we will be continuing nonverbal spells. You know the drill. Partner up."

The class immediately began chattering and moving around, and James and Sirius instinctively turned toward each other.

"Alright, mate," Sirius said. "You'd better tell me right now if you're going to be trying sardine hexes again, because if you are, I'm partnering with Moony."

James laughed. "Honestly. I didn't think it would work-"

"Gentlemen," said a voice, and they looked up to see Professor Gordon standing above them. She was frowning.

"Hello Professor," said Sirius, grinning broadly. "You're looking mighty fine this morning."

Gordon gave him a firm look. "I just wanted to let you know that though I received your Head of House's explanation as to the presence of this…"—she trailed off, looking at where the baby was currently trying to chew the desk, leaving slobber and boogies in its wake—"…_baby_, and I think it advisable to take extra caution in this classroom with all of the spells being exchanged."

"We've got it, Professor," said Sirius. He passed her a wink, to which Gordon simply raised her eyebrows and headed off. The woman had always prided herself on her control, something that James and Sirius had always loved to tease.

"You know," James said conspiratorially to Sirius once she was out of range. "If we weren't in trouble already, now would be a great time to release some fireworks."

Sirius smirked. "Indeed. Put some interest in the class. Gordon's tits are not exactly to my preference."

James stared at him. "I didn't know you felt that way about her."

Sirius seemed surprised that James was surprised. "I can appreciate good tits on anyone," he told James.

"She's seventy years old," James pointed out.

Sirius shrugged.

"What about man-boobs, then?"

"That's a different story altogether, mate."

They suddenly became aware that Dorcas Meadowes was standing before them, a look of disgust on her face.

"You like seventy-year-old women?" she said, appalled. "That's perverted, Black."

"Correction," said Sirius. "I can _appreciate _fine tits when I see them. Whether or not a seventy-year-old measures up to those expectations is another matter entirely. I have very high expectations-"

"No, you don't," snorted James.

Sirius raised the volume of his voice. "I have stellar taste when it comes to women-"

"Including seventy-year-old women, apparently," said Meadowes.

Sirius frowned.

"Whatever," said the Hufflepuff before Sirius could continue. "I was just curious as to why you're carrying a baby around today." She motioned behind her, where three Hufflepuff girls were eagerly watching from the other side of the classroom. "It's kind of been the mystery question this morning."

They stared at her.

"Since when?" James asked her, surprised at how fast the news had spread.

"Since Davey Gludgeon saw you in the hall this morning," said Meadowes.

"Wow, he really can't keep his mouth shut, can he?" said Sirius.

"I'm flattered that so many people are interested in our lives," James said. "But I didn't know you were among that collection, Meadowes." He smirked at her.

"Right," said Meadowes, not even batting an eyelash. "So why is Sirius carrying around a baby?"

"It's Professor McGonagall's," Sirius answered her with a grin. "We're getting two galleons an hour to babysit the kid for a month."

Meadowes' eyebrows rose. "Really?" she said, looking at where the baby was pounding his fists on James' copy of _Confronting the Faceless: A Defense Guide_. "Huh. Why would McGonagall need you to look after her baby?"

"It's her nephew," James told her. "Her brother needed some help."

Meadowes stared at them for a long time. "Right," she said eventually, frowning at them. Then, a moment later she stood and said, "Well, I'd better start practicing. See you Potter, Black."

"Same," James said, giving her a last grin, and Meadowes headed back to her group of Hufflepuff girls. They immediately surrounded her, and it looked like she was accounting what they had told her.

"Don't think she bought it," Sirius said, lounging carelessly. Beside him, the baby made a move to crawl off the desk, but Sirius caught him and sat him back in the middle. "Bit standoffish, she is."

James laughed. "I bet you two galleons that that's the rumor that sticks."

"Really?" Sirius said, eyebrows rising. "I would think that the experiment one sticks."

They glanced at each other and shared a smirk.

"This is turning out to be more fun than I thought," Sirius said.

James laughed, and both boys rose. They moved to the space in front of their seats and faced one another.

"Okay," said Sirius as he casually pulled his wand out of his pocket. "I guess we'll both have a go. Nonverbal spells. Whoever gets jinxed first loses."

"Obviously," James said, pulling out his wand and pointing it to match Sirius. "Right? Go!"

Nothing explosive happened. They both stood there, their faces scrunched in intense concentration, their wands moving wordlessly. For three minutes, both continued to flick their wands at one another, but nothing changed, save for the reddening of their faces. Finally, Sirius gasped for breath.

"Can't do it, mate," he said, straightening. James followed suit. "Nothing's changing."

James glanced at the rest of the class. The other students didn't seem to be much further. Most of them looked constipated, bent over and so closely concentrated on jinxing their partner that they didn't realize how ridiculous they looked. Even Evans, who was working with Marlene McKinnon across the classroom, seemed to be getting no further. Her face was red with effort, and her hair was frizzy in her ponytail.

James suddenly felt something sharp zap him on the behind. "Ouch!" he snapped, whirling around to see Sirius smirking at him.

"Stop eyeing Evans," Sirius said.

"I wasn't."

"You were. I know you."

"I don't like her anymore."

"Still in denial, I see."

"I'm not in denial," James told him.

Suddenly, there was a loud thumping sound, a beat of quiet, and a loud wail.

"Merlin!" Sirius said. The baby had fallen off the desk and was squirming in a pile of books.

"Shit!" James swore, as he and Sirius rushed over to the baby.

Sirius immediately scooped up the baby, but by now the baby had dissolved into hysterics at the shock of it all. Sirius groaned exasperatedly. "Please shut up," he told the child, but tears continued to stream down the baby's cheeks.

"Did she just _fall_ off your desk?" Marlene McKinnon asked in horror from across the classroom. The rest of the class seemed to have halted their practicing as well, and were now staring unabashedly at where Sirius was trying to quiet the child.

"No!" said Sirius indignantly.

"You should probably note that in your experimental log," said Alfie King.

"Mr. Black," said Professor Gordon. "I must request that you leave the room. She's disturbing the class."

"It'll just take a minute, Professor," Sirius said. He turned to James. "What do people usually do?"

James stared at the wailing child, completely clueless. He shook his head. "I dunno…"

Sirius groaned and began rubbing the baby's head to soothe it. The rubbing motion didn't seem to be at all effective—perhaps meant more for a dog or cat than a baby—and the baby's face continued to redden. Its eyes screwed tighter, and its tiny fists clenched in misery.

"Mr. Black," began Professor Gordon again as the baby's cries continued to escalate. "She's disturbing the class time-"

"_He_," snapped Sirius. "And this wouldn't be happening if your classroom had adequate child-safety measures."

Gordon seemed unperturbed. "Mr. Black, if you cannot contain that child, I cannot allow you to return-"

"Gordon," interrupted Sirius angrily, and the child let out an especially loud wail. "I'm doing the best that I can."

Quickly realizing that Sirius' attempts at silencing the baby were not going to get them anywhere, James snatched the child from Sirius' grip and set him on his hip. Feeling extremely foolish, especially with Evans watching across the classroom, James began bouncing the child in an attempt to soothe it. He could feel his cheeks burning—he couldn't remember the last time he had felt this embarrassed—perhaps after last years' Snape incident—but frustration drove him on. There was no way they could simply charm the child quiet—not with the whole class watching, and definitely not after Remus' earlier speech.

"Shut up," James pleaded with the child. "Please shut up." Beside him, Sirius was shuffling through his bag, taking out objects that he thought may be of use. James watched him place them on the desk there: spare quills, a rolled up ball of parchment, an ink container, a condom.

"Seriously?" James said, picking up the condom and raising an eyebrow at Sirius.

Sirius looked up, hand still burrowed in the bottom of his bag. He saw what James was holding, winked at him, and snatched it back. "I'll be using that later."

"There are wizard ways of doing that, you know," James began, but Sirius wasn't listening. Sirius grabbed one of his quills and waved it in front of the baby.

"Sirius, I don't think-"

"Shut up, Prongs. He liked it before."

But though the quill was waved in front of the baby's face, the baby did not quiet its wailing.

"Mr. Black and Mr. Potter-" began Gordon.

"Okay," said Sirius, tossing the quill away. He grabbed the ball of parchment and showed it to the baby. The baby's cries did not stop. Sirius tried the ink container, the condom, a book, but the baby's cries continued.

"Mr. Black-"

In a last desperate attempt to quiet the child, Sirius began crumpling the parchment on his old Herbology essay, creating a rustling sound. And almost like clockwork, the baby's cries lessened. Its eyes, previously screwed shut in agony, opened and fixed themselves on the ball of parchment. It whimpered a bit, but they could see that its attention was now focused on it.

"_Gentlemen_!"

"_Shush_," said James. If the baby started crying again, he would hex Gordon out of the classroom.

Sirius crunched the parchment again, repeating the noise, and the baby's cries halted altogether. He sniffled a bit, and reached for the ball.

"That's right," said Sirius, offering it to the baby. The baby seized it in a chubby fist and used two hands to open the parchment ball. It made the crinkling noise again. The baby banged it against James' shoulder. More crinkling. After it was apparent that the baby's cries had stopped and that he was occupied, the two boys looked back at their professor. She was watching them, her lips firm and her hands tightly clasped.

"Return to your practicing," Gordon instructed the rest of the class, and when the other students had reluctantly found their partners and resumed, she fixed Sirius and James with a dangerous look. "I see it fit to tell you that if another instance like this occurs, you must vacate the classroom until the situation is remedied. Is that understood?"

"It wasn't our fault," James said, feeling a hint of annoyance. He and Sirius didn't know what they were doing; it wasn't fair Gordon wasn't cutting them any slack! "You can talk to McGonagall. I don't know how she expected us to handle a baby in a classroom. The classroom simply isn't equipped to handle his needs-"

"Then you and Black need to find your own means to occupy him," said Gordon. "But I cannot waste class time because you cannot control your…baby-"

"It's not our baby," Sirius said.

"I expect that come Friday, you will be prepared for class," Gordon said. "If not, then I'm afraid you will have to be temporarily suspended from these lessons."

* * *

_Aaand our adventure continues! Let me know what you think—feedback is my bread and butter. That includes you, my lovely lurking readers!_


	4. Stepping up the Game

_Thanks a gazillion to Ieyre, Guest, CoolFanfictionLover, Chocolate369, gunsnroses007 .nj, and wolfstreak, who all reviewed last week. You guys are amazing, seriously. Love you all. This next chapter's for you!_

_Trigger warning: mentions of childhood abuse_

* * *

Chapter Four: Stepping up the Game

Sirius and James didn't think the other classes would be as bad.

But then the baby wailed all through Potions, vomited on Professor Sprout after lunch, and had a nappy mess in Transfiguration. By the end of the day, when they were eating dinner in the Great Hall, James and Sirius were exhausted.

"We should have left him in the dorm," Sirius said. They were both in a sort of daze, staring blankly across the table at where Remus had took some mercy on them and was feeding the baby some applesauce. For some reason, the baby had quieted now, seeming all too happy to be in Remus' arms. It was if he was gloating over the grief he had caused his guardians.

"D'you think we can pay Remus to take care of him?" James asked Sirius, who looked just as exhausted as James felt. James still didn't know how Remus managed to do it, but somehow Remus seemed to have an innate knowledge of what the baby wanted and when. Though Remus consistently refused to take care of the baby for them, even after the tantrum in Potions, he remained the only one who could effectively handle the baby.

"I'm not going to take care of him for you," Remus said, and James and Sirius looked suddenly at him. Remus finished wiping the baby's mouth with the spoon.

"Why not?" said James, exhausted that Remus wouldn't even consider it. "Moony…"

"I'm not going to," Remus replied calmly, taking another spoonful of applesauce from the bowl on the table. Beside him, Peter watched the baby eagerly accept the next spoonful. "I don't think you two are trying hard enough."

"How are we not trying hard enough?" James said. "We tried our hardest today, and you saw how things worked out. We were awful, the baby was awful, the professors got annoyed, and we all know that it's going to happen again tomorrow."

"I just don't see the point," Sirius said. He slouched in his seat and ran his hands through his hair. His usual show of cockiness had faded halfway through the day, replaced with frustration. He glared over at the Slytherin table. "Why would McGonagall want us to do this? What's even the point?"

"She probably wants to challenge you," Remus said. "That what you said she initially said, didn't you?"

"I couldn't care less right now," said Sirius.

"It's a lesson in responsibility," Peter volunteered. "She thinks you're irresponsible… wants you to… I dunno. I guess taking care of something else helps."

They looked at him for a moment, each with the distinct feeling that Peter was somehow right.

"Even so," said James eventually. "It doesn't change the fact that this baby is having more of a negative effect than a positive one."

"Maybe right now," said Remus, offering the baby another spoonful, which he accepted.

"What do you mean, 'right now'?" James asked him.

"Well," said Remus. "Things could get better, much better. And easier. It's the first day. You're just learning how to handle him. Nobody learns how to be parents in a day."

"We're not parents," said Sirius firmly.

"You are of a sort," said Peter.

"We're not," snapped Sirius.

"It doesn't matter," said Remus. "The point is that you don't yet know how to take care of him. But it'll get easier as it goes on." He looked at Sirius and James and received two unimpressed expressions. "Come on," said Remus exasperatedly. "You two aren't actually giving up."

"It wouldn't be a bad idea," said Sirius darkly, turning his attention to a nick in the table wood. He picked at it with his nail.

Remus looked at James. "James?"

James shook his head, releasing a long sigh. "I don't know, Remus. Today was pretty rough."

"McGonagall won't let you off the hook," Remus said. "If you did decide to give up, she would take away Quidditch and Hogsmeade."

"Well, maybe she'll rethink it," said Sirius. Remus gave him a long look, and after a moment, Sirius' expression darkened. "Or not."

"It's not worth losing Quidditch for," said James, studying Sirius to see if he was on the same page. For some reason, Sirius seemed uncharacteristically moody, and James was afraid he'd have to care for the baby by himself so he didn't have to give up Quidditch. "Hogsmeade I can deal with. We could just use the cloak."

"I think you should give it another try," suggested Peter. "Remus is right. You'll get used to things."

"I don't see how," said James. "By going through hell and back with this baby? Do we have to witness his fifty types of wailing before we can identify which is the pissy one?"

Remus didn't smile. "Honestly," he said. "It could just be a matter of organization."

Sirius cursed and sunk further in his seat, rubbing his hands on his face. "Screw your organization," he snapped.

James felt the same way. Making a schedule was the last thing on his to-do list.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Okay, listen to me. He wouldn't be whining half the time if you two made a schedule. He cries during class because his needs aren't being met. He could be tired, hungry, bored, and a whole bunch of other things."

"How would we even know what he wants?" said James. "We don't speak baby."

"It goes along with the whole idea of scheduling. You'll learn when he should be fed, when he usually needs his nappy changed…" Remus trailed off.

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that a schedule might not be the big constricting thing that you and Sirius make it out to be. It could be very useful in knowing when he was fed and when you can expect to clean his nappy. Or when he needs to go down for a nap."

James stared at Remus for a while, wondering if his friend had a point. Beside him, the baby eagerly finished off the end of the applesauce. Perhaps things would be easier with a schedule, or at least something of the like.

"Besides," said Remus. "Schedules are better for babies. It's healthier that they have things done the same way each day so they get used to it."

There was a silence, in which the baby began clanking the spoon against the table. Remus eventually removed it from his hand and vanished the flung applesauce.

James was dwelling on Remus' words, beginning to think he was right. "How do you know all of this?" he asked him.

"My neighbor had young children a few years back," Remus said with a shrug, and Sirius let out a string of curse words to no one in particular. "My mum made us visit."

Another silence followed, and James stared at the baby, who—in the absence of his spoon—had now resorted to banging his fists against the table. Maybe taking care of the baby wouldn't be as bad as he thought. James wasn't ready to give up yet, even if Sirius was. Would it be so bad just trying what Remus suggested?

"Why do you have to be such a know-it-all, Moony?" said Sirius darkly.

Remus shrugged. "If you don't want my advice, you're free to attempt it on your own."

"I really just don't give a damn," said Sirius. He continued to scrub at his face, looking heavily irritated. When he had finished, he left his head in his hands.

"I think it's a good idea," Peter said when it was clear that Sirius wasn't about to continue. He scooped a spoonful of mashed potatoes onto his plate. "I think Moony's right."

James eventually nodded, and then turned to look at Sirius. "Mate," he said, prodding his friend's shoulder. "We could try it out."

Sirius murmured something indistinct.

"What?"

"_I said_ I just want to sleep," snapped Sirius, drawing his hands away from his face. He glared at James.

James frowned. "Mate, what is up with you?"

"Am I the only one who thinks this is utterly ridiculous?" Sirius snapped, looking around at the other three. "Why should we be looking after a random baby? It isn't even an actual baby. It's a bloody fake."

"It's our punishment," James reminded him. "What it's made of isn't the point-"

"Why is this our responsibility?" snapped Sirius. "Why would McGonagall want us to do this? It's ridiculous, it's pointless, and I bloody hate the bloody thing."

"I don't think he's in love with you either-" Remus pointed out wryly.

"Remus, I don't give a damn!" Sirius snapped.

They frowned, not knowing how to respond. Peter slowly laid his spoon down on the table.

"Mate, what's wrong with you?" James asked him.

"What's wrong?" echoed Sirius. "Don't you find it ridiculous? We've been working our hats off for this bloody miserable thing, and for what point? So we can get it to shut the hell up and learn to interpret its bloody wailing and sing Kum-bay-mah before it goes to bloody sleep on our school trunks?"

"What else is there to do?" Peter asked him.

"It's Kum ba yah," began Remus, but Sirius cut him off.

"I don't bloody care," snapped Sirius. "I hate the thing. I think it's lousy. I think this whole thing is lousy. It's insulting. Did you know we're trying harder with this bloody fake thing than many parents do with their real children? Are we supposed to hold it, feed it, love it?" He snorted disdainfully, as if it was the most repulsive thing in the magical world. "Oh, _okay_. What the _hell_? It's not even bloody real! It's a lousy, disgusting, disturbing sack of a rabbit half-breed!"

"I think you're overthinking this," James said.

"I think _you're_ overthinking this," snapped Sirius. Further down the table, two third years turned to look at them, frowning.

"Look, we're just trying to figure out a way to survive this month," James said, lowering his voice a bit so they didn't draw attention. "It's half your responsibility so I think you should-"

Then, Sirius got up from the table, snatching his bag, and strode from the Great Hall. The others stared after him in disbelief.

James threw his hands up in the air. "I don't get it," he said to Peter, who shrugged. "I really don't get it sometimes."

Remus stared at Sirius' disappearing figure. "Maybe someone should go after him."

"Maybe we should wait for him to cool down," Peter said. "It's hard talking to him when he's like this."

"It's like he goes through PMS," James muttered.

"I don't think this has to do with the baby," Remus said eventually. "I think it's something else."

"He was fine the whole day," James said. "And now he flies off his broomstick. I don't get it."

They fell into a moody silence, each picking at their food, until James spoke. "I'll do it," he said, rising. "I'm supposed to be his bloody best mate."

"Alright," Remus said. James half-expected him to hand the baby over, but Remus just said, "We'll probably head up with the baby soon. I think he's getting tired."

"Alright," James said, grateful. Somehow he didn't think carrying the baby with him would do Sirius much good. "Take care."

"Good luck, mate," said Peter, passing him a sympathetic look. "We'll bring you up some macarons."

"Thanks, Wormtail," James said, swinging his bag over his shoulder. "Save the plum kind. And Sirius likes the buttermilk."

"Will do," said Peter.

James headed from the Great Hall.

He knew exactly where to find Sirius. When Sirius got moody, he would always go to the niche corridor on the fourth floor. James located him sitting on the floor there, staring at the door across the hallway, his hands clasped around his knees. Sirius seemed to know it was him, and didn't say anything as James seated himself there. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"I was a bit of a prat, wasn't I?" Sirius said eventually.

"Just a little," said James.

Sirius sighed. They sat in silence for a while, the cold wall behind them and the cold floor beneath them. The hallway was silent and dim, so every shuffling of James' feet made noise.

"He's going to join them," Sirius said eventually, and James looked up to see Sirius staring sadly at the door across the hall. "He's sitting with them now, eating with them. He's going to join their group."

James was silent for a while, not quite knowing to whom Sirius was referring. He didn't interrupt. It was rare that Sirius talked about his deeper feelings.

"It's what my mum and dad always wanted, someone to join in their bloodthirsty pureblood campaign." Sirius looked down suddenly and his fingers found a loose string on his sweater. He picked at the frayed end. "And…and Regulus's stupid. He'll do it. He's stupid, he's always been stupid."

So that was what had set him on edge, the sight of his brother eating with the Voldemort gang, talking about blood purity and supremacy. James couldn't blame him—it would have made him upset too to see someone he cared about over there. He remained silent, waiting for Sirius to continue. Sometimes it was best to let Sirius talk it out.

"It feels ridiculous, doesn't it?" said Sirius eventually. "Caring for a baby like this when there are other things that are happening around us?"

"I guess," said James softly. The cold beneath him was beginning to seep in, and he hugged his legs closer to his chest.

Sirius exhaled and ran his hand over his face. "It's ridiculous," he said. "It's really ridiculous."

James nodded in agreement, and they continued to sit in quiet for a few minutes.

"You know," Sirius began softly after a while. "My parents never really gave a shit. It's why it's a bit weird… you know, putting so much effort into taking care of this baby." Sirius stared at the door at the end of the hallway for a long moment. "My parents used to make us read books on blood purity. We could only socialize with people they deemed fit. If you didn't agree with them, there no supper. If you defied them, you'd be punished." He fell silent for a moment. "My mum usually did it, but if she wasn't in the mood, Kreacher would do it for her. They used my great-aunt Lycoris' cane. …It used to sit in the front hall."

James, not knowing what to say, settled with lowering his head and fixing his attention on his shoelace. He knew about the nature of things in the Black home, but he never broached the topic. Sirius rarely talked about it as it was.

"They really didn't care that much about us," Sirius said softly. "It was difficult to accept, but when I did, I realized I had to get out. I just couldn't stand it anymore. …And Reg, blindly thinking that he could still earn their love, their approval, by drinking up everything they fed him…" Sirius looked down. "He's gentle, too gentle. He's too soft. I know he won't make it. He doesn't belong with them."

Sirius was silent for another long moment. "But he'll do it anyway," he whispered. "He'll do it because he wants to please them. And they don't give a shit as long as he's doing what they want."

They sat in a resigned silence for a while, and though James felt the urge to say something encouraging, he was saved when Sirius broke the silence by looking over at James. "Have a cig?"

"Nah," said James. "Thought you quit."

"Thought I did too," Sirius said. "Could really use one right now, though."

"Yeah," said James. "Me too."

Sirius gave a long sigh and stretched his legs out before him. "McGonagall'd probably flip a shit anyway."

"Probably. Reckon she'd give us another month?"

Sirius snorted. James grinned at his best friend's obvious distaste of it all. Sirius seemed to think that the coming month would be hellish.

"Honestly, mate, it won't be that bad," James said.

"Yeah," said Sirius eventually. "Just because my family's messed up doesn't mean that everything else should be too."

"Right," said James, glad that Sirius finally had everything cleared up. It wasn't that he minded his mate talking about these things; he just usually ended up feeling woefully inadequate and incapable of an appropriate response.

"You know," said Sirius, smirk returning. "Moony'll probably end up taking care of it more than he thinks."

James mirrored Sirius' smirk. "Probably. He's already babysitting when last night he said he wouldn't do anything."

Sirius' grin widened. They both knew they'd have to return to their dorm eventually, but here a perfect opportunity for escape had just presented itself. "Reckon we should get some food from the kitchens first?"

"Maybe go for a romp in the Forbidden Forest, swimming in the lake, and return around two in the morning?"

Sirius laughed. "Moony'd flip."

"He'd be livid," James agreed, laughing.

The two paused for a moment, imagining the ridiculousness of the scene, when a sudden mischievous grin spread over Sirius face. "Wanna go?"

"Nah," James said, shaking his head. "Things are only half as fun without Remus here frowning after us," he said.

"Maybe just the kitchens for now."

The two boys stood and made their way down.

* * *

"Ah, I see you've returned," Remus remarked caustically when James waltzed into the dorm two hours later, followed closely by Sirius. "With the Prodigal Son."

"The what?" said James. He lifted his bag to the bed. It was packed with smuggled food from the kitchen and was getting quite heavy.

"Never mind," snapped Remus. "Where have you been?"

"We took a detour," Sirius said, grinning. He opened his own bag and began pulling out food: bread, sweets, fruit…

"Padfoot was emotionally compromised," said James, not fazed in the least by Remus' irritation. "It required a necessary stop to the kitchen."

Remus' brows rose as he watched Sirius set his food on his trunk. "Oh, I'm sure that was the case. So while you two were romping around the castle, I had to take care of that blasted baby of yours-"

Just then, the toilet flushed, effectively drowning out the last portion of Remus' sentence, and Peter emerged from the bathroom. "Guys!" he said, seeming surprised to see them back. "I brought you the leftover macarons! James, you said apricot and buttermilk, right?"

James frowned. He didn't want to burst Peter's bubble, but he had specifically told Peter he wanted plum. "I said plum. Did you get plum?"

"Moony," Sirius reminded Remus firmly as Peter went to retrieve the macarons. "It's not our baby, remember?"

"It's not fair that you keep doing this!" said Remus. Beside him, Peter located the bag of macarons and started towards Sirius and James, who both eyed them hungrily. Remus saw where their attention was lying and grew frustrated. "Don't give them the food," he told Peter. "They brought back enough of their own. That can be our share."

"Hey!" said Sirius as Peter quickly drew back. "I wanted the buttermilk!"

"Are you even listening to me?" demanded Remus. "I said it's not fair-"

"Wormtail, seriously, just hand them over-" said James.

Remus' irritation was escalating. "As I was _saying_, it's not fair- _Peter, don't give it to them_!" he snapped.

"Moony, shut it," said Sirius.

"Peter got these for us specifically," James reminded Remus.

"And you probably have twenty more in your bag!" said Remus.

"We don't," corrected Sirius.

"Don't try to change the topic. You can't just do this! You can't just brush away the issue here!" Remus told them. "Sometimes you lot are such…ugh! _Twats_!"

"Twats?" echoed James. Beside him, Sirius moved toward his bag and opened it, intent on disproving Remus. "Why are you calling us twats?"

Remus frowned at him. "You can't just dump the baby on me!"

"Why _twats_?!" James said, offended.

"I only have seven macarons in here," Sirius said coolly to Remus. "So I think Peter can hand over the others-"

But Remus wasn't listening to him. "Will you get over yourself?" he said to James. "It's because you two literally shirk off on everything-!"

Sirius didn't seem bothered that Remus wasn't listening. He turned to Peter and held his palm out. "Peter!"

Remus turned his glare to Sirius. He snatched the bag of macarons from Peter's hand and put them on the bed, safely out of Sirius' reach. "He's not going to! Those are our share."

"Well," said James loudly to Remus, and Remus' attention snapped back to him. "I think that sometimes you take things too seriously-"

Peter was frowning at Sirius, unsettled by Sirius' confession that he had obtained some of his own directly from the kitchens. "What do you mean that you already have seven in your bag?" the plump boy said indignantly. "Can I have some?"

"_No_," said Sirius. "Because I didn't know there was a buttermilk option. I didn't get any buttermilk, and I want your buttermilk ones."

"I'm not 'taking things too seriously,' James," Remus snapped to the Quidditch captain. "You and Sirius like to hand your responsibilities off to other people and forget about how others are feeling-"

Peter continued to frown at Sirius. "Well, then you won't mind giving me some of your melon ones in exchange-"

"I don't have any melon ones-"

"We do _not_," said James, eyes narrowing on Remus. "You know the crap that I go through on a day to day basis? Did you see what happened today?"

"Yes, you do," said Peter insistently to Sirius. "You're lying—I saw them in your bag-"

"Well you can't have them."

"Oh, that _crap_ that you go through?" Remus echoed James' words disdainfully. "Try the word _responsibility_, James. It's new. I don't think you've experienced it in a while. You don't like being responsible-"

"If you give them to me," Peter bargained. "Then you can have the buttermilk-"

"That's not fair," insisted Sirius.

"It is fair-"

"It's not responsibility, it's humiliation," snapped James back. "Is it too much to ask if you just look after the child for two hours-?"

"Nah," said Sirius firmly to Peter. "Because I didn't know you were getting me any in the first place. But you did and then I went through all of the work to get these. So both the melon and the buttermilk are rightfully mine."

"Well, I'm sor-_ry_ if you're exhausted after one freaking day, James," snapped Remus. "But can you stop to consider how I feel about being left with the damn thing?"

Peter shook his head. "I went through all the work to get you the buttermilk-"

"You had a bunch after dinner anyway," Sirius pointed out to Peter.

"Yeah," said Peter angrily. "But I didn't know they had _melon_ ones in the kitchen. I really want some of the melons-"

"How about energized? Willing?" volunteered James sarcastically to Remus. "Because you haven't been drained by its life-sucking powers throughout the day?"

"You can't have them," snapped Sirius to Peter. "Stop asking."

"Then I'm not going to give you the buttermilk ones-"

"I'm not talking about physically, James," Remus said angrily. "Try _emotionally_."

Sirius glared at Peter. "You have to."

"So this baby _emotionally_ compromises you?" James said, drawing closer to Remus. "Wow, Remus. I didn't know that was possible!"

"No, I don't," Peter said, frowning at Sirius. "You're using reversed logic on me and it's not working. The only macarons I would want to exchange would be for some pineapple."

"No one likes pineapple except for you, Peter," said Sirius disdainfully.

"I'm not emotionally compromised!" snapped Remus, taking a step closer to James in turn. "I simply think that it's not fair for you to dump your punishments on me! I was doing you a favor! Don't take advantage of it!"

"James does!" Peter contradicted. "There're some in his bag."

"Right, you _offered_!" James corrected Remus. "So why can't I take advantage of that? It's the whole damn main idea-"

Sirius moved towards James' bag and removed the pineapple macarons. "Fine," he said. "You can have James' pineapple macarons, but only if you give me the buttermilk ones."

"Alright," conceded Peter. "Deal."

"Because it was just because of extenuating circumstances—_Peter_," snarled Remus just as Peter was about to hand over the macarons. "Don't reward them."

Peter froze.

"Bloody hell, Moony!" said Sirius, irritated that Remus had caught on. "Don't be so bossy!"

Remus threw his hands up in the air. "I am _not_ taking care of this damn baby! It's your responsibility, not mine!"

"Re-_lax_," Sirius said. "We promise we're going to take care of it!"

Remus recoiled, and blinked in surprise. "You are?"

"Yeah," Sirius said. "James and I decided to do schedules. Like you said. We discussed it in the kitchens."

Remus looked at James, who looked extremely unimpressed. "You did?"

"Yeah," said Sirius, snatching the macarons from Peter's hand. "Starting tomorrow we're going on schedule."

"…Oh," said Remus, blinking.

"Why do you think we took so long in the kitchens?" James said. "We were getting some stuff for the baby too."

"…Oh," said Remus.

Sirius stuffed the macarons in his mouth, and passed over the pineapple ones to Peter, who did the same.

"Wmf picmphm ffmph-" Sirius told them as he moved toward his bag.

"Don't choke, mate," James said. He translated for Remus, "We picked up some stuff from the kitchens, like bananas, cereal, yogurt, cheese, rice, tomatoes…" James began picking the items from his bag, and Remus stared at them. "And some other stuff we thought would be useful."

Sirius swallowed and cleared his throat. "And we're having Kira the house-elf come up each morning to bring something for breakfast," he added.

"All we have to do now is to research proper proportion sizes and then we'll be good to go," said James.

"Wow," said Remus after a beat. "I'm impressed."

"We are too," said Sirius proudly. "We even consulted Kira about sleep schedules."

Remus frowned. "Sleep schedules?" he echoed. He looked from Sirius to James, as if to check that he had heard them right. "I'm… not sure house-elves know much about sleep schedules."

"Of course they do," Sirius said.

"They spend their nights cleaning our dorms," Remus reminded him.

"Exactly, they probably know something," Sirius said. Beside him, James rustled through his bag, frowning. "They've probably observed what happens. It's not that big of a deal."

"Right." Remus gave him a weird look. "Baby sleep schedules are really different than adolescent sleep schedules-"

James looked up from his search. "Where is the little mandrake anyway?"

"The baby?" Remus said. "He's in the tub."

"You left him alone?" said Sirius, surprised.

"No, Peter's supposed to be watching him-"

"What?" said Peter. "I thought he was okay."

Remus looked extremely annoyed, and headed immediately for the bathroom, the three other Marauders on his tail. The baby was sitting in the tub there, surrounded by copious amounts of bubbles and at least four rubber duckies. The baby shrieked happily when he saw them.

"You're lucky I took special care that he wouldn't be able to slip and drown," Remus told Peter.

"These ducks!" said James, picking up one of the circling rubber duckies and studying it. "Aren't they muggle?"

"Clever, Moony," Sirius complimented Remus. "I'm just relieved he doesn't smell anymore."

"No, he's better now," Remus said. "I have to say, I'm really relieved that you and James figured out an eating schedule-"

"What if we changed them…?" James thought aloud, and he brought his wand out. Suddenly, instead of rubber ducks, there were ducklings in the tub, splashing and chirping.

"Merlin's left buttock!" said Peter, jumping back as the ducklings ruffled their wings, sending waves of water and bubbles all over the place. The baby's eyes widened and he stared in shock at the animals, which had up until then been inanimate.

"James!" exclaimed Remus, bending over the tub rim to seize one of the ducklings that was beelining for the baby. A large wave of water doused the front of his shirt. He began fumbling for a grip on the animal, and the duckling writhed in his fingers. "They might hurt him!"

The duckling, feathers slick with moisture, slipped out of Remus' grasp and landed on the bathroom floor. A large puddle followed him onto the ground. The duckling squawked, the baby shrieked, and the rest of the ducklings echoed in chorus.

"Change them back!" Peter cried as the other ducklings catapulted themselves off the tub rim in pursuit of their sibling. Bubbles flew everywhere, and another large wave of water swept over the tub and onto the bathroom floor, dousing the entire room in slippery layer. Sirius began laughing as Peter tried to sweep aside the mess on the floor. Peter wasn't having much luck; the bubbles seemed to multiply with each and every movement.

"Trying!" James said, feeling his shoes dampen as the wave of water crawled toward him. He brandished his wand and pointed it at one of the ducklings that was pattering across the floor, leaving trails of bubbles. Then, after an anticlimactic beat, James paled. He felt his stomach sink. "I, er, I forget the reversal spell."

Remus threw his hands up in the air. "For goodness' sake!"

"I was absent that class!" James said defensively. "If anyone should remember, it should be you!"

"I was in the hospital wing!" Remus reminded him. Around them, the ducklings' frenzy increased, and Peter began panicking as the bubbles and water quickly accumulated.

"You're best at defense-!"

"I need to get out of here!" Peter blurted suddenly, reaching for the doorknob. Sirius abruptly stopped laughing, his eyes widening with sudden recognition of the consequences should Peter open the door.

"_NO_!" chorused James and Remus, but it was too late. The door was wrenched open, and water, bubbles, and ducklings went spilling out into the bedroom floor.

"Get the baby!" yelled James, and Remus snatched the baby out of the tub. A rush of water followed the baby, but the boys didn't bother worrying. Ducklings and bubbles galore were already wrecking havoc around them.

"Close the dormitory door!" Remus yelled at Sirius, who hurried to shut their bedroom door before any of the ducklings could escape. In Remus' arms, the baby started screaming.

The bedroom door was slammed shut, and the ducklings made a hairpin turn and scattered. "Does anyone know the reversal spell?" Sirius demanded from where he was now trying to herd the ducklings away from his bag of macarons.

"I thought _you_ did!" Remus said, setting the baby on the bed and whirling towards him.

"No!" he said indignantly.

"You're best at transfiguration!" Remus said.

"Excuse me?!" James yelled, heading immediately to rescue his invisibility cloak from the floor.

"Shut _up_, James," said Sirius. "You started this!"

"Merlin!" said Peter, trying to herd a duckling away from the baby's makeshift bed. "They're leaving messes all over the place!"

"You're supposed to pay attention in class!" yelled Remus to Sirius, growing frantic. If none of them knew what the reversal spell was, the damage would be quite extensive by the time a competent wizard or witch arrived. "If anyone, you should know!"

Suddenly, there was a loud _thunk_, and a loud ripping sound. Remus and Sirius turned to see James sprawled on the floor, apparently having tripped on the hem of his trouser leg.

"Did you crush any?" Peter asked him, as ducklings scattered around James' head.

James groaned. "No," he said, and Sirius and Remus whirled back to each other.

"I was sick that day!" Sirius snapped to Remus.

There was a second _thunk_, and the ripping sound heightened.

"Merlin's purple arse!" shouted James. He stood up more slowly now, and there was a large, gaping tear on his trouser hem. Frustrated, James stripped off his trousers and reached for his wand. "_Petrificus Totalus_!" he shouted at one of the ducklings near Peter's foot. The duckling darted out of the way, and Peter fell frozen to the floor with a resounding crash. The baby's screams heightened.

Just then, the bedroom door opened, revealing a frowning Lily Evans. She was dressed in her Hogwarts uniform, prefect badge pinned on her robes, and stopped abruptly in shock at the sight unfolding before her.

James froze halfway towards unfreezing Peter. Remus and Sirius' heads whirled towards where Evans was standing on the threshold.

"Evans!" James said in surprise, colouring as he realized he was only in his underpants.

"Shut the door!" Sirius yelled at her as the ducklings beelined towards the opening.

Evans quickly obliged, but remained in the room. "What's going on here?" she said, her concern deepening as she took in the chaotic room around her. Food scattered over the beds, a naked, wailing baby on the sheets, ducklings scampering all over the floor, and bubbles and puddles everywhere. It must have looked alarming.

James used the brief moment of peace to wave his wand at Peter, who unfroze and sprawled out onto the floor with a gasp of relief.

"We're going through a bit of a situation here," Remus told her.

Evans watched the ducklings scatter around her feet. "I didn't know you were up here, Remus," she said frankly.

Remus shrugged uncomfortably. He knew he was supposedly the most responsible of the Marauders, and a prefect, and people's expectations seemed to be frequently let down when he was caught in his friends' messes.

"You do realize that there have been numerous complaints about the noise level up here," she said. "I'm just coming up here to let you know."

"Oh," said Remus. Beside him, James frantically brushed the bubbles from his hair, and Remus found the action distracting as he tried to summon an excuse for the noise, "We really didn't know we were-"

"Do you know how to transfigure ducklings back into rubber ducks?" Sirius interrupted.

Evans blinked, her green eyes widening at the bluntness of Sirius' interruption. "Yeah," she said. "We learned that the other week in transfiguration. Weren't any of you paying attention?"

"Apparently not," said Sirius. "I was sick, Moony was visiting his mum, and James and Peter were who-knows-where."

"You weren't sick," Peter piped up from the corner.

"Point is," Sirius said loudly, "that we can't change them back."

Evans stared at him for a beat. "Right," she said eventually. She extracted her wand from her pocket, waved it, and all of the ducklings froze mid-scamper. The baby's wails quieted into whimpers.

"How did you…?" breathed Peter. Never had the quiet seemed so beautiful.

Evans waved her wand again and the ducklings popped back into rubber ducks.

"All at the same time," Peter said in awe.

Evans looked unimpressed. "Next time maybe you shouldn't skip class," she said.

"We didn't skip class," Remus corrected quickly.

"I didn't really mean you, Remus," she said, glancing briefly at where James and Sirius were standing. "But anyway, it doesn't really matter."

James' hands flew to his hair. Sirius' eyes narrowed at her.

Evans took the opportunity to clear her throat. "That should be better. Next time just cast a muffling charm or something. We could hear you all the way down in the Common Room."

"We'll keep that in mind," Remus told her quickly. "Sorry."

Seemingly content with that, Evans passed them a sarcastic smile. "Good luck with the baby, by the way. Mary MacDonald told me all about the adoption story. It's always terrible learning that you can't have children, but I'm sure that McGonagall's nephew will find a great home here. Even if she is paying you. Just make sure you don't experiment _too_ much on him. After all, there are only so many _half-Veelas_ in the world."

Remus looked at Sirius. "_Really_?" he said, but Sirius just shrugged.

Evans' grin widened, and just as she was turning to head out the door, James blurted out, "Hey Evans."

"Yeah," she said, glancing back. She brushed her dark red hair from her shoulder.

James' hand shot to his hair. "Hi," he blurted, ruffling the back. "I mean, I dunno. Thanks-"

"Please, Potter, just don't skip class next time," Evans interrupted. "Maybe then you'll know the right spell. And please try not to make such a racket again. I really don't want to have to write you up." Then she left the room.

* * *

_Poor James. He's still head over heels. Whew, this was a long one. Hope you enjoyed it, and please review! _


	5. Slipping Duties

_Thanks so much to gunsandroses007 .nj, CoolFanfictionLover, Dixie .f .9, Chocolate369, and wolfstreak. You guys are really the best... It's so encouraging to hear from you guys week after week. Thanks for all you do! Here's the next chapter, hope it meets expectations!_

* * *

Chapter Five: Slipping Duties

"Okay," Sirius said, steadying the baby on the bedsheets the following morning. "Breakfast meal of the day. Check!"

"Check," echoed James, setting aside the sheet detailing the baby's eating schedule. He turned toward Kira the house-elf, who was waiting for them to finish and dismiss her. "Thanks, Kira. You can take the food away."

Kira beamed at him and dipped into a low bow. "Kira lives to serve Hogwarts and all of its students." She scooped up the breakfast tray and set the empty yogurt and fruit containers on top. "Will Masters be needing me tomorrow?"

"Yeah," said James. "And probably every morning this month."

Kira nodded. "Of course. Kira will be sure to provide a healthy selection for Masters' baby."

"We might need some variety too," James told her.

Kira nodded again, her grin widening. "Kira will be sure to provide a healthy and _diverse_ selection for Masters' baby."

"Thanks, Kira," James said, and Kira, with a final bow, exited the room with the tray.

"That was nice of her," Sirius said when she had gone, reaching over the bed to wipe the baby's mouth clean.

"It's her job," James reminded him.

"Yeah, but she's doing half of ours," Sirius said. "She just saved us from an entire month of early cooking."

"True," James granted him.

They watched as the baby clapped his hands and smiled at them.

"Good to see that he's not crying," Sirius remarked.

James nodded. The baby reached forward to pat Sirius' cheeks, but Sirius withdrew from his reach.

"Classes shouldn't be as difficult today," Sirius said. "If he's been fed, then all we have to do is make sure we keep on schedule."

"And clean up after he dirties his nappy."

"Right," said Sirius. "This shouldn't be that hard. They're like little machines. You just put in what you need to put in, clean up the excess, and the rest should go smoothly."

"Right," James agreed. It shouldn't be that bad.

Things began to go downhill when, on their way to Charms, McGonagall stopped them in the hallway.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Black," she greeted them when Peter and Remus had gone ahead into the classroom. McGonagall's lips were tight. It was her dangerous face, the face that students fled from when subjected to. Whatever James and Sirius had done now, she was not happy.

"Professor," James returned, shifting the baby's weight in his arms.

McGonagall's lips pursed. "Have you two forgotten anything?"

Sirius stared at her. Forgotten clean nappies? Forgotten to hand in homework? "Forgotten… something? Professor?"

"Forgotten somewhere you had to be?" McGonagall prompted, eyebrows popping. When they stared at her blankly, she added acidly, "Last night?"

James frowned. "Where did we forget to be?"

"Detention," she said through pressed teeth. "You both missed your detention."

James and Sirius stared at her. Then Sirius looked at James.

"I completely forgot that was supposed to be last night," Sirius told him, only vaguely concerned.

"We completely forgot, Professor," James explained to McGonagall. "We were so occupied with caring for the baby-"

"We had an accident with the bathtub," added Sirius.

"And it completely slipped our minds," James told her.

"Almost literally," said Sirius. There was a long pause in which McGonagall glowered at them, unimpressed, and then Sirius added, "I'm serious."

James snickered, but a firm look from McGonagall silenced him.

"Part of your punishment for Tuesday's…" she paused, painstakingly searching for an appropriate descriptor, "_mishap_…was these detentions. Yesterday, I told you that if you were late for one, another day would be added. I do not know what ran through your juvenile minds to make you think that you could somehow skirt this punishment, but now that you've completely _skipped_ one, an hour and a half will be added to each successive day of detention."

Sirius' eyes widened.

"Professor," James said, suddenly wishing that he and Sirius could back out of the situation, "we honestly weren't skipping. We completely forgot. The baby-"

"You must learn to think beyond yourselves and your immediate environment and remember your obligations," McGonagall said. "Perhaps this will be a reminder."

James and Sirius stared at her in disbelief. McGonagall was strict, sure, but that little hint of mercy that James and Sirius often played off of was nowhere to be found.

"Professor," James said weakly, "you don't believe us?"

"Whether you speak the truth or not is not my main concern," McGonagall told them. "My main concern is that you two have yet to learn responsibility, be that responsibility for your actions or responsibility for your commitments. Though it is apparent that your charge," she glanced at the baby in James' arms, "remains healthy and breathing, your behavior continues to exhibit a consistent lack of preparation in your commitments."

"We are getting better at it," James said weakly. He suddenly turned to Sirius, desperate for proof. "Padfoot, Padfoot. Show her the schedule."

Sirius started and abruptly started rifling through this bag. He pulled out the feeding schedule they had prepared before, now rumpled and splattered with ink. Sirius gestured wildly to the schedule. "We're getting better."

"It's good to see, Mr. Black," McGonagall said dryly, though James fancied he saw a twitch of her lip disturbing her scowl. "Well, I won't keep you waiting. Hurry to Charms now. I don't think you can afford any more detentions."

James deflated as the hope that maybe McGonagall's resolve was crumbling and that she would remove her punishment quickly fled. McGonagall turned to leave, and James stared after her for a few moments in disbelief, until Sirius tugged him on his sweater.

"Come on, mate," Sirius grumbled, looking peeved. In James' arms, the baby was starting to whine and squirm, so James surrendered and followed his friend into the Charms classroom. Perhaps a change of scene would do them all good.

Inside, James and Sirius had barely seated themselves when Professor Flitwick was upon them.

"Ah, yes," he squeaked immediately, his eyes on the squirming baby in James' arms. "Your Head of House saw it fit to warn me. Though I must ask—will it make much noise in the classroom-?"

Sirius' irritation towards McGonagall seemed to be redirecting itself towards Flitwick. He looked exceedingly irked. "_He_," Sirius corrected abruptly, savagely. His eyebrows rose in defiance.

"Erm, excuse me?" Flitwick said, flustered, and James aimed a kick at his mate's leg. They couldn't afford to be in any more trouble right now. If Sirius started sassing Flitwick, things could quickly continue to go downhill.

"The baby is a _he_," Sirius said.

Flitwick blinked. "Oh," was all he said, and luckily he didn't seem offended. The baby squirmed in James' arms, making impatient whimpering sounds.

"So, the child…" Flitwick began again, "is he… _contained_?"

"Contained enough," Sirius replied.

Sirius' vague assurance didn't seem to satisfy Flitwick, but the professor just gave an abrupt nod and headed away to quiet the Ravenclaws in the front of the room, who were currently passing a magazine between them and chatting all the while.

"Behave," James hissed at Sirius when Flitwick was a safe distance away. "Do you want to get more detentions?"

Sirius glared at him. "I can't believe McGongall did that."

"Yeah, but we're going to be even worse off if you keep it up," James snapped. In his arms, the baby's whines heightened, so James impatiently shifted him to a new position.

Sirius just huffed at that, so James changed the topic. "Listen, Padfoot. We just need to get through this day. It's going to get easier."

"_Right_."

"Shut up and take the baby," James told him.

Sirius looked around him, at the sharp corners of the desk, the stone floor below, his bag slumped against his chair… "I don't even know where to put him."

"I thought you brought something," James snapped. "A pad, a cushion, _something_."

Sirius looked at him. "I didn't bring anything."

James met his gaze in disbelief. "You told me you were prepared."

"You never mentioned bringing anything to _put _him on!"

"I expected you to think of that!" James said.

"You should of thought of that!"

"I had _the baby _in my arms. That's responsibility enough!"

Sirius made a disparaging noise and James glared at him. "Listen, mate. Just transfigure your bag into something fluffy."

"And charm the baby to it?" Sirius challenged. "He's not going to stay."

"He might fall asleep or something!" James contradicted, but as the baby squirmed in his arms, he knew it wasn't the truth.

"We should have planned better," Sirius said, and James knew he was right.

"Do you have something he can play with?" James asked him desperately.

"Mr. Black. Mr. Potter," Flitwick called from the front of the classroom. He was already on his podium, ready to start the lesson.

James held on to the baby as Sirius silently rummaged through his bag for anything that could be of interest. Eventually, he pulled out a quill and an inkbottle.

"Don't be ridiculous," James hissed. "That's poisonous. He'll stick it in his mouth."

Sirius waved his wand at the two, changing them into a rattle and a toy car, and James closed his mouth, secretly impressed by his friend's ability. Sirius then transfigured his bag into a cushion and motioned for James to pass him the baby, which James obeyed. After the baby had been charmed to the cushion with a sticking spell, Sirius then pushed both toys into the baby's fists.

It was a bit of a relief to see the baby take both immediately, and, thinking the child was finally content, James turned his attention back to the front of the classroom, where Lily Evans' ponytail and Flitwick's blackboard were waiting for his attention.

"Today we will be learning a new charm," Flitwick squeaked, tapping his wand at the blackboard. The word _Augumenti _appeared, and a diagram of water shooting out of a wand beside it. "_Augumenti_ is a very unique spell, similar in theory to the Freezing Charm. It's first known use was early in the first century, when wizards in Rome needed to conjure enough liquid to combat the Manticore Famine of 108-"

Suddenly, a loud clattering spell interrupted Flitwick's words, and many in the class started in surprise. James and Sirius looked over to see the baby's toy car halfway across the classroom.

"Sorry," Sirius apologized, quickly fetching the toy car and bringing it back to the baby, who seized it immediately as if he had never thrown it in the first place.

Flitwick blinked, apparently unsure of how to react in the situation. He continued after an awkward beat, "The spell single-handedly preserved the reputation of Caiphas the Second, and many others-"

Another clattering sound interrupted Flitwick. The baby had thrown his car again, and—as they watched—a moment later his rattle, which clacked noisily on the stone floor before coming to a halt.

Flitwick cleared his throat.

"Sorry," Sirius apologized again. "It won't happen again."

Flitwick turned to continue his lesson, and Sirius pointed his wand at the car and rattle. "_Silencio_," he said, and handed them back to the baby, who seized them again.

The next few minutes found James and Sirius standing every few seconds to retrieve a toy, until finally a Ravenclaw beside them snapped to Sirius, "Cut it out, will you?"

James glared at him and Sirius flipped him the finger, but both knew the Ravenclaw's irritation was justified. What was the use of giving the toys to the baby if he was only to throw them? The game wasn't funny. It was exhausting and embarrassing. So James quickly took the toys and slipped them in his bag.

"What now?" Sirius hissed to him when he was once again seated.

James shrugged hopelessly. "Maybe he'll entertain himself."

The peace—glorious peace—lasted for about two minutes. Then, upon hearing a rustling noise and an irritated whine, James looked down to see the baby trying to move from the cushion, prevented by the sticking charm Sirius had put on his pants. He repeatedly tried to hoist himself to his feet, but just as he shifted his weight forward, the cushion would weigh him down. It continued for a good minute, until the baby seemed to give up. He sat down with a last heavy _plop _and its face wrinkled up.

"Oh Merlin, no," Sirius groaned.

The baby let a loud wail.

Flitwick froze from where he was enunciating the incantation, his wand still pointed to the blackboard. The students sitting in front of Sirius and James turned in their seats to frown at them. At a nearby desk, Remus and Peter passed them sympathetic glances.

Sirius tried to shush the child, but when the baby's wails only rose in volume, James felt a wave of frustration. Suddenly fed up with everything, James finally scooped the child up—cushion still attached—and marched from the room.

Only when the door had shut behind him was he able to calm a measure. The baby's cries were faltering, perhaps with surprise at the abrupt change of scenery, so James set the baby on the floor. He then slid down the wall beside him with a long sigh.

Sirius was out a moment later, and he shared a weary look with James.

"We must have done something wrong," he said. "I don't know why he kept hurling the toys away."

"We didn't do anything _wrong_," James said. "We just didn't do enough. I think he was bored."

"Hmm." Sirius itched his chin. "Maybe he didn't like the toys we gave him."

"Maybe."

Sirius' eyes scanned the cushion under the baby's bottom. "We're going to have to try harder next time," he told James.

"Plush toys?" James suggested.

"More silencing charms," Sirius added.

"A more stimulating environment."

Sirius frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe we could charm the toys or something. I dunno," James said, and Sirius thought for a long moment. "Anything to keep him entertained."

"Oh," said Sirius, seizing an idea. "Maybe toys that could interact with him."

James motioned that Sirius should continue. "Like…?"

"I dunno. A snitch or a flying dragon plushie—something that keeps coming back to him when he tries to throw it away."

James nodded slowly, brow furrowed in thought, and Sirius, encouraged by James' approval, continued, "We could rotate the toys around so he doesn't get bored."

James nodded again. "Yeah. Good idea."

"So he expects us to entertain him," Sirius said, "fetching toys and holding him and whatnot. But it's going to be a long month and we're going to get really far behind in class if we spend all of our class time doing that. I think he needs another form of entertainment that will keep him occupied and challenged."

"Yeah, that's probably right."

Sirius gave him a look that challenged him to toss out thoughts of his own. "Sooo…" he prompted, "any ideas?"

They stayed in the hall, tossing ideas back and forth, successfully tuning out the impatient baby below them as they brainstormed as if sharing one mind. Minutes passed, and the two made no effort to return to the Charms classroom, not when they were so close to finding a solution to their problem once and for all.

Soon, however, the period was over. The classroom doors along the hall began to open, and students spilled out into the corridor, flooding the area and bringing the buzz of loud chatter with them. It was then that James and Sirius decided to halt their conversation for the time being, having no intention to continue brainstorming in the loud hallway. Instead, they began gathering their things for their next class. They would be prepared this time. They didn't need yet another classroom disaster.

Rising to his feet, James transfigured the cushion back into Sirius's bag, passed the bag to his friend, and hoisted the baby onto his hip. They were just about to return to Flitwick's classroom to retrieve James' bag when a hand stopped them in the doorway.

"Potter," snapped an angry voice, and James and Sirius turned to see Velma Helms standing there, scowling at James.

"Helms!" James said, surprised to see her there. They didn't usually run into one another during the day. The most they usually saw of each other was during Gryffindor Quidditch practices.

"Where were you yesterday?" the fifth year demanded.

James frowned at her. "What?"

"You scheduled practice last night," she told him.

James felt his stomach drop. He _had_ scheduled their practice Wednesday night…

And he had completely forgotten, just as he had with McGonagall's detention. A distinct squirming began in his stomach.

James looked back towards Helms, who was watching him impatiently, her eyebrow piqued in a bushy arch. He knew she was angry with him, and had every right to be. What Quidditch captain didn't show up to practices?

"Erm…" he began uncomfortably, itching his neck.

"You forgot," she finished bluntly. Helms didn't seem impressed at all, and James knew she was about to blow up at him.

"Um…"

"You _told_ us," she snapped. "_You told us_ to be there on time. None of us wanted to be there at that hellish time of night _anyway_. And we waited an hour, Potter. _An hour_!"

He shifted the baby's weight on his hip. "Look, I'm really sorry-"

"You better have a damn good excuse, Potter," she said. "You were only the damn person who scheduled the damn practice-"

"Look, Helms," Sirius interrupted. "It really wasn't his fault. We kind of had a rough night last night-"

"We missed McGonagall's detention too-"

"We were trying to bathe the baby…"

"And things just got out of hand."

She glanced from James to Sirius and back, looking dubious. "You missed McGonagall's detention?" she echoed, and James nodded. Helms stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed. She seemed torn between her anger towards James and her curiosity about McGonagall. "Well, what did she say?"

Sirius gave a humorless laugh, and James answered, "She was angry. She added on an hour and a half to each detention. We have detention for the rest of the week."

"Really?" she asked them.

"Yeah," said Sirius. "It's rough. We've been through hell and back these past two days."

Helms' brows rose. She seemed impressed. "I'm surprised McGonagall didn't flay you alive or have you scrubbing floors for the rest of eternity. You probably would have damn deserved it."

"Believe me, we didn't miss it on purpose," James told her, seizing on the hint of sympathy coming from the Quidditch player. "We were so tied up with everything else. I would have let you all know that I couldn't make it but then everything happened at once and we lost track of everything…"

Helms held her hand up, looking like the last thing she wanted to listen to was his excuses. "It's honestly okay, Potter. I guess I understand. We just didn't like waiting."

"Right," James said, and there was a long pause as Helms scrutinized him.

"Guess you can't change practice times."

"Slytherins have the mornings," James told her, hoping that she would understand that him missing practice was something that couldn't be avoided for the time being. "Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws booked Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays."

She seemed a bit annoyed, but shrugged it off anyway.

"Well, it's just this week that I can't come to practice," James explained quickly. "I'll be back next week just fine, but I don't think I can get out of McGonagall's detentions. I don't really want to try."

Helms waved her hand again. "Potter, honestly, it's okay."

"Can you and Mercédès lead practices until I come back? You know the drill by now…"

"Warm up, practice drills, work out, blah, blah, blah… yeah I got it."

"Alright," James said, knowing that although she was still annoyed, this was the farthest she'd come to being pleased with the situation. He knew she'd do a good job. She and Mercédès worked well together.

"Alright," she agreed. She passed a hand through her wild curls and sighed as she turned to leave. "Well, see you, Potter."

James looked towards Sirius once she had left. "I'm losing it, Padfoot. I can't believe I forgot _Quidditch practice_, of all things. When have I ever forgotten Quidditch?"

Sirius clapped a hand to his shoulder. "It's okay, mate. We'll just work on other things right now. Like how in Merlin's name we're going to survive our next class unless we acquire more suitable entertainment for His Nappy Highness."

To both boys' astonishment, the snitch and hippogriff figurine they bewitched to serve as entertainment kept the baby more than amused for the better part of Herbology class. They had taken seats in the back of the greenhouse to minimize their classmates' annoyance, but as it turned out, they didn't have to. The baby sat entranced for a long while on the greenhouse floor, watching the feathers of the hippogriff glimmer as the figurine tossed and turned, then watching the zipping movement of the snitch overhead. After the initial fascination died out, the baby began to reach for them, lifting chubby fists up to catch them. If caught, the snitch or hippogriff would subject to some levels of slobbering, before squirming from the baby's lax grip and starting the process over. It quickly became a game to the baby, and to the boys' relief, he had only a few moments where they had to intercede to pass him a snack or comfort him. For the most part, his toys did most of the entertaining.

After the class had finally ended, James and Sirius packed the toys into their bags and passed one other relieved looks. They had made it through a whole class in relative peace. Professor Sprout even passed them a small smile as they headed out. Though they had got the initial impression that she was not happy to see the baby there—not after yesterday's vomiting incident—she seemed relieved that all had gone smoothly. As were James and Sirius. And both were determined that things should stay that way.

"We'll have to find more toys," Sirius said, grinning as James zippered his bag and they headed to exit the greenhouse. Both were drunk on their relief of it all.

"Definitely," James agreed. Now all they had to do was to get through Muggle Studies and then they could relax about the whole matter. James couldn't wait until they returned to the Gryffindor tower and put the baby down for the night. He could use some time off. Though he and Sirius had split carrying duties, his shoulders were still sore from carrying the baby and his mind weary was from a full day of split attention.

Muggle Studies started out okay. Professor Greenwich was going over the importance of electricity to the muggle world (a topic neither pureblood quite understood) so James and Sirius were grateful for the baby's occupation with his toys. They had stealthily acquired two new ones before class—a first year's Potions textbook (charmed with a handy anti-rip spell) and a cardboard box from Filtch's office—and both were relieved to see the baby wholly entertained with them. Both were then able to give Greenwich their full attention… at least for the first fifteen minutes.

And then things started going downhill.

The first sign was the fussy whimper the baby gave when the flittering snitch refused to stay still, which, though not uncommon, was disconcerting because it usually indicated a coming tantrum. When it echoed a second time, James and Sirius passed each other a significant glance. Neither knew why he was growing fussy, but if he didn't quiet soon, the boys knew there would be a storm coming. It was odd; before now, the baby had seemed completely content with the new toys. Before, he had welcomed the challenge of chasing the snitch, but now he only seemed annoyed, impatient. Could he be getting tired of them already?

Sirius removed the snitch and supplied the baby with the cardboard box instead. Maybe the baby needed a change in entertainment.

The baby dutifully accepted Sirius' offering, and just when the two boys were turning their attentions back to the lecture, thinking that he was settled, he gave another whimper. The box was flung, and though it made no noise and instantly rebounded back—courtesy of Sirius' charms—the confusing part was the absolute look of misery on the baby's face.

"What's wrong with him?" James muttered to Sirius after the baby had flung the box a third time.

They tried switching the box for the book, the book for the hippogriff, the hippogriff for the snitch. They tried giving him food. They tried moving him around. But soon the whimpers turned into fussy wails, and Sirius and James looked at each other hopelessly as Greenwich halted her lecture and shot them a heavily irritated look from the front of the classroom. The students in the rows before them all turned to look at them, and James cringed. He could sense their hostility—many of the students had been putting up with their antics all day, and had likely reached a breaking point. James desperately wished for them to sympathize with his and Sirius' plight. It wasn't their fault—they honestly didn't know what was wrong! They'd been dealing with chaos like this ever since they had gotten the damn thing!

Not waiting for Greenwich to tell them off, Sirius and James abruptly rose from their seats, snatched their bags and the baby, and excused themselves from the room.

"_Dear Merlin_!" snapped Sirius when the door had closed behind them. "Will this blasted thing ever _shut up_?!"

"What the hell is wrong with it?" growled James, studying the baby in disgust. "It's not hungry, it's not bored, its nappy isn't dirty-"

Sirius slid to the ground. "I'm never having kids," he swore. "I'm never, ever, _ever_ having _any_ children, and if I do, I'm going to ship them to a Wizarding School in Antarctica."

"It's like it _wants_ us to be miserable-"

"Let's make a pact," Sirius said abruptly, turning to James. "Neither of us have kids. Ever. Let's stay bachelors. "

"If this is how our lives are going to be for a whole damn month-"

"Prongs, swear by the Marauders."

James' head turned to look at him, James realizing for the first time that his friend was addressing him. "What?"

"Swear that we'll be bachelors forever, and never have any squalling, squeebling-"

"Is that a word?"

"-children like this abominable abomination."

James hesitated, holding the baby at arm's length and immediately thinking of the green eyes that so frequently captured his attention-

Sirius snorted, immediately catching the end of his thoughts. "Come on, mate. What are the chances she would even date you?"

James glared at him.

"Okay, so I hit a nerve. I'm being realistic, though."

James could feel his glare softening in defeat as he realized Sirius was right. He wasn't about to fight, anyway. The baby's wails were getting on his last nerve.

"Swear," Sirius pressed him.

"I swear," James said reluctantly.

"And I solemnly swear to never become one of those crazy man-dads with the buggies and the diaper purses…"

"Fine," James said, hoping this was the end of it. He was finding Sirius' antics a bit irritating. "Though I think we've come close enough already."

Sirius looked as though James had committed heresy. "I can't believe-"

James growled in impatience. "Can we just figure out how to shut this thing up?"

Sirius opened and closed his mouth in surprise, and his eyes narrowed scornfully. "Well _I_ don't know how to work the damn thing."

Neither of them did. "Should we head over to Ancient Runes to get Moony?" James proposed, only half-hopeful.

"The bloke's already angry enough at the shit we've put him through."

James rolled his eyes. He knew Sirius was right, but it didn't quell the irritation steadily building inside of him.

"So he's not hungry," Sirius said. "He's not bored, he's not stinky. He got sleep last night. Did he hate lunch? Maybe he's sick?"

What was that spell Remus had used the day before? To soothe upset stomachs? James pointed his wand towards the baby's stomach. "_Venter placare_."

The same golden glow issued from the tip of his wand and was absorbed by the baby's shirt, but there was little other change. The wails didn't lessen as they did before. James felt a rush of impatience. If they couldn't even figure out a baby's simple needs, they were in for a hellish month. James wasn't sure if he'd make it.

"That was anticlimactic," Sirius commented wryly, and James felt the sudden urge to jinx his best friend. His words were setting James on edge.

"It was _supposed_ to soothe his stomach," James snapped.

"Maybe you did it wrong."

"_Maybe_ his stomach isn't upset."

"Well what the hell else could be wrong?" Sirius snapped back. "If you did the blasted spell right and it's _not_ his stomach, what the hell is it, then? Tell me, Mister Healer."

"I don't know!" James growled.

Sirius flung his hands impatiently. "Well we have to figure _something _out!"

James ran his hands through his hair. Something. There had to be something wrong. There had to be something they could do. What would Remus do in their situation? "What would Remus do?" he asked aloud.

"What?" Sirius seemed too confused to remain angry.

"Moony's the professional!" James explained. "What would he do in this situation?"

"Probably do some weird-ass Kum-bay-mah shit-"

James was struck with an idea. "He'd probably try rocking him!"

Sirius' eyes grew wide, immediately catching onto James' drift. He took a step back. "No, no, no, _absolutely_ not."

"Come on," James said, offering him the wailing child. "No one's watching!"

"Then you do it!" Sirius retorted. "It's utterly humiliating."

James felt his annoyance surge, but the baby's wails were too grating for him to put up a fight. "If I do it this time, you have to change the next two dirty diapers."

Sirius made a face.

"Padfoot…" James warned.

"Fine, fine."

Glancing around the hall one last time to make sure there really wasn't anyone in sight, James eventually shifted the baby against his chest and began bouncing him. He watched the baby's expression closely, trying to read his discomfort levels. The constant wailing soon broke into watery gasps and ragged sobs.

"Maybe you're doing it wrong," suggested Sirius.

"No," said James, realizing for the first time that he recognized this pattern of behavior from the previous day. He continued to bounce, and though he felt utterly ridiculous, his need for the noise level to diminish was greater than his embarrassment. "Remember he did this when he was hungry too? He's calming down."

Sirius frowned.

"Look at his face," James explained, turning his shoulder so Sirius could look at where the baby's head was drooping against James' collar. "Does he look like he's calming?"

The sobs were now quieting, and Sirius bodily turned James around to read the baby's face. "Huh," he said eventually, and though James could not see his expression, Sirius sounded relieved. "Yeah, I guess so. …Think you're professional at this, mate."

James grinned. "You can do it next time. Don't want you to miss out on all the fun."

"See, now the baby powder's gone to your head," Sirius told him. "You're barmy."

"Nah," said James dismissively. "He's not so bad."

"Yeah, when he's quiet."

"He's kind of cute."

Sirius piqued his eyebrows. "Alright, now I'm worried about you, mate."

James chuckled, and he was aware with the quieting of the wails that soft puffs of breath were now moving past his neck. After a minute or so, he looked at Sirius. "Is he asleep?"

Sirius checked. "Yep. Wow, out cold. That must have been it. Tired or something."

"And here I thought Kira had the sleep schedule all worked out," grumbled James, though he continued to bounce the baby. "Didn't know the mandrake needed _naps_ too."

"Hmm," agreed Sirius. "I reckon Moony was probably right. Kira probably hasn't had much experience with babies." He looked abruptly at James. "Don't tell Moony I said that."

James passed him a crooked smile. "My lips are sealed as a Sphinx," he assured him, but Sirius only returned the words with a dry look.

"You didn't think I'd fall for that one, did you?" he asked him, unamused. "Met one at Gringotts and it nearly talked my head off, remember?"

James smirked at him. He had remembered, of course. "Oh, right."

Sirius didn't buy it.

"Hey," said a sudden voice, and the two boys turned to see a familiar redhead approaching them in a messy ponytail and shouldered bag.

"Hey, what are you two doing out here?" Lily Evans asked them, grinning at the sight of them with the baby in the hall. James could feel the heat spreading across his cheeks, and for a moment he couldn't remember how to bend his knees to continue bouncing. He opened his mouth to stutter a reply, but the embarrassment of being caught in the situation rendered him speechless. Sirius fluidly filled in for him.

"Little mandrake was stretching his vocal chords in Muggle Studies," he told Evans, his hands casually sliding into his pockets. "We decided to take him out for a breather."

Evans approached to study the baby more closely. "He's a sweetheart," she said. She passed them a brief wry look. "And I have to say, I much prefer him with clothes on."

Oh, right. She had walked in on their bathtub disaster the night before. James felt his cheeks heat, though whether from the memory of the incident or Evan's closeness he could not be sure. He could feel her near the back of his neck, examining the sleeping baby.

"You two are doing really well," she told them after she had withdrawn. "I'm surprised. I kind of expected you would have given up by now."

"Why, _Evans_!" Sirius said, pretending to be aghast. "You think so little of us."

Evans laughed. "Never." Her gaze met James', and she passed him a warm smile, which he returned reflexively. His spirits lifted a measure, and he straightened, adjusting the baby against his shoulder.

"Anyway," she said, smile still bright. Her cheeks seemed a bit more flushed than usual. "I'm headed down to meet with Professor Flitwick. I'll see you two later. Good luck."

Her ponytail flipped over her shoulder, and James watched her continue down the length of the hall.

* * *

_Ooh, looks like someone has a bit of a crush. Guess we'll see where that goes... Review please! I'm trying to grow as a writer and I really appreciate any feedback! _


	6. Insufferable, Inseparable, Impish

_Thanks a million to everyone who reviewed last week: SporkGirl, NightShade, Chocolate369, wolfstreak (wow, i'm surprised someone noticed, haha), CoolFanfictionLover, and gunsnroses007 .nj. Thanks so much for your support and enjoy this final chapter! Love you guys!_

* * *

Chapter Six: Insufferable, Inseparable, Impish

The punishment had done them some good.

Minerva watched Potter and Black filter into her classroom with their limpet in tow. It had been four weeks since the boys had been given the transfiguration mishap, and the two of them looked like naturals. They had their bag of toys on an arm, their food stash on another, the baby balanced on a hip, bookbags over their shoulders, and they still managed to jinx Marcus Grenly's hair pink when the Ravenclaw had turned his back. All in all, they looked like they had been doing this for a long time.

That wasn't to say that they wouldn't slip up now and then—have to take the child out of the classroom, have to call their house-elf friend with a desperate request—but what was different now were their actions. Their attitudes were the same—Minerva was not certain that would ever change—but it was their treatment of their responsibilities that was different.

After the first two slips of detention, the two managed to remember to attend every single one following. They continued attending classes, perfected keeping the child quietly contained during lecture and safely entertained during spell practice, and still managed to get superior grades in all classes aforementioned. Potter even managed to uphold his duties as Quiddich captain. The staff's complaints of class disruption went down after the first week, and though the kitchen reported numerous breaches and severely diminished food supplies, Minerva excused it when she saw how the boys were turning mistakes into lessons and growing proficient with their responsibility. The baby was healthy, entertained, and happy, and Potter and Black were treating him as simply an addition to their routines. They had managed to accept the responsibility and move on to balance the other parts of their lives. They had accepted the responsibility and grown from it.

And of that, Minerva was proud. Very proud indeed.

Though she _was_ becoming annoyed with the number of quasi-enlightened individuals congratulating her on the prodigious talents of her "nephew". She had lost count of the number of well-wishers who looked upon enlightenment as if a kneazle had swallowed their tongue… She supposed it was a lesson in telling tales, if nothing else. After all, there was nothing like the manticore getting a taste of its own stinger.

She watched Potter and Black set themselves up in their customary classroom seats, way in the back. Although their friends Pettigrew and Lupin preferred to sit a bit further up, the two boys seemed to enjoy the certain advantages that came with the full visual scope of their classmates. Minerva knew that both enjoyed pranking from back there, where they believed there was no one who could see it coming. Except Minerva, of course, who was able to identify a Marauder prank when she saw one.

They seated themselves and spread their bags and the baby over their desk, taking care to cast their customary protective charms over the floor and desk, and placed the baby via sticking spell on Sirius' transfigured bag. This had been their pattern for the past four weeks, and though Minerva's appreciation of their transfiguration talents had long faded, her amazement at their continual care had not.

She didn't know if this was another side of them she was seeing, but she was impressed. The care they had shown had brightened her opinion of the boys.

And she was not the only one.

She had noticed the increased number of heads turning now when Potter and Black were near. Professors, students, classmates… all seemed to regard the two Gryffindors differently now, as less of public menaces and more of fun-loving pranksters.

There had also been a particular increase in the number of female admirers over the past few weeks—well, and male admirers, for that matter. Though Black and Potter had never usually been without their aficionados in all their time at Hogwarts, Minerva noticed there had been a direct increase since the baby's introduction… due either to an altered perception of the troublemakers, an increased appreciation of a baby in Potter's Quidditch-sculpted arms, or a newfound courage old admirers had summoned up under the pretext of friendly inquiry. Minerva was not sure, but either way, the Marauders were now—more than ever—the buzz of the school. Their attention was in demand like never before. Watching it was like watching Potions students vying for a vial of liquid luck, except that the vial of liquid luck didn't give a damn who it was bestowed upon, as long as it was esteemed and its Quidditch drills were taken seriously.

Sure enough, Minerva could see eyes turning as the boys seated themselves. Rose Xavier looked positively breathless. And Ernie Posvar… yes, there was his usual blush. In the recent days, the most interesting development was among the young Gryffindor ladies. Marlene McKinnon was not known to be one who closely guarded secrets, and Minerva noticed that lately she had become a particular tease to her friend Lily Evans, especially whenever a certain Quidditch captain was nearby. The development was interesting to Minerva—she had seen the way Potter gawked at the girl over the past six years; how he had pulled her ponytails and jinxed her and stared helplessly in her direction each time she walked by, wishing he could find a way to connect. Now that those feelings had begun to be reciprocated… well, Minerva supposed things were about to become interesting. _If_ Potter caught on to Evans' feelings, that was. The boy was a bit daft when it came to reading others. She suspected it had something to do with one too many bludgers to the head.

Not that she could say the same about Remus Lupin. _He_ had caught on to the Miss Evans' development, that was for sure. He and Pettigrew had both seemed to read the glances Lily Evans was passing in Potter's direction, and were amused enough by the latter's ignorance to keep silent on the matter. They were smirking at each other at the moment, both calm and collected—and vastly entertained—sitting a few rows up from their other Marauder half. Minerva had noticed a change in Lupin and Pettigrew as well over the past month. Lupin and Pettigrew, though Lupin especially, were looking brighter and more laid back than they had three weeks ago, when black circles and rumpled clothes had been a daily occurrence. Though Minerva had no way to prove it, she suspected that Lupin and Pettigrew had put up with more than early-morning wakeups. She was relieved to see that that had changed after the past few weeks. Otherwise, she would've had to have a major talking-to with Potter and Black…

The class was just settling, and Minerva drew her thoughts away from the Marauders to tap her wand to the blackboard. Today she'd be teaching them bird-conjuring charms. It was near N.E.W.T. level material, and she suspected they'd have a couple of disasters before the end of the class. It'd certainly be an interesting lesson. She'd better begin, so they could get as much practice in as they could. The incantation _Avis _traced itself on the board, and Minerva began.

Through the class period, as she continued lecturing, she was amused to observe the activity in the back of the classroom among Black and Potter. Toy hippogriffs were being hurled, boxes upturned, cushions abused…

And yet no one in front was noticing. The number of silencing, recalling, and padding charms the two had cast were restricting the disasters to a contained area, allowing the class to remain peacefully ignorant as silent chaos unfolded behind them. From Minerva's perspective, the scene had a strangely boxed feel, similar to one of those old silent muggle comedies. Merlin, it was like a scene straight from one, and Black and Potter were the characters frantically struggling to keep a brimming disaster from being noticed by the blissful majority.

Minerva forced herself to retain a closed expression, though she could feel her amusement bubbling. She would have to speak with Potter and Black after class. She thought it was due time that their punishment was lifted; they had learned their lesson. It seemed Dumbledore was right all along—adding responsibility to their lives had done the trick.

There was a collective sigh as Minerva put an end to the lesson for the day. She had had enough explosions for the day, and, as it seemed, so had her students. The sixth years immediately set down their wands and practically catapulted themselves over their desks to gather their books. Minerva tried to impart them with last instructions for their upcoming essay, but soon the growing rustling proved too much for her to speak over, and she settled for letting it be. Instead, she quickly scanned her students' heads to try to locate Black and Potter before they fled the classroom.

She located Potter's hair near the back of the classroom, and when the students had parted to give her a full view, she saw that they had just finished removing their charms and were now shoving everything back into their bags. Minerva raised her voice to draw their attention over chatter of students around them. "Potter, Black!"

The two glanced up midway through shoving what looked like a garden gnome into their bag. They had to have cast an undetectable expansion charm on their bags—there was no way that all of that stuff could fit in there otherwise.

"If I could see the both of you," she told them.

She saw them pass each other dubious looks, but they quickly collected the rest of their things and began moving upstream towards Minerva's desk. Minerva could see Potter's eyes darting to Evans' form across the classroom as they approached; he seemed disappointed that he would not have the chance to approach her. The girls seemed to be moving slower than usual, which would have given Potter a nice opportunity; they were clumsily assembling their belongings, and though their gracelessness could have been attributed to McKinnon's bag spill, Minerva suspected that Evans was drawing out her time. The girl had behaved rather oddly all class—from explosions to accidental stinging hexes—and all attributed solely to the fact that Miss Evans could not concentrate on the work in front of her. No, her eyes had certainly been fixed elsewhere.

"Professor?" Black asked her expectantly when they had finally reached her desk. Potter promptly ruffled his hair, as if to put thoughts of Evans behind him.

Minerva took time to straighten her desk papers, formulating her words. The rest of the class was thinning by now, and she was relieved that she no longer would have to raise her voice to address them. "Yes, Black, Potter-"

The baby squirmed in Black's arms, whining to be set down. It looked like a tantrum was imminent. Minerva could see his eyes screwing shut, his chin twisting. But just as the baby opened his mouth to draw a gusty breath, Potter promptly stuck a pacifier between his lips. The baby's eyes grew wide, and Potter and Black looked expectantly at Minerva. The baby blinked a few times to shake off his surprise, but there was no explosion as he began chewing on his pacifier. Minerva blinked a few times, taken aback by the adept avoidance of the tantrum and the normalcy with which Potter and Black were watching her. Her train of thought momentarily vanished from her mind.

"I—I think I have been rather harsh on the both of you this past month," she continued when she had recovered it, "keeping you in from your nighttime activities, burdening you prematurely with the responsibility of a child—"

"_Professor_," Black said, aghast, "We've enjoyed every moment spent with you."

Minerva had to applaud his consistent application of humor to any situation. "I could reply the same, Black," she replied dryly. "Especially because it means less cigarette smoke in the dormitories and fewer jinxes to right."

Black just winked, and though the action seemed to consistently unsettle other professors, Minerva wasn't fazed. She hadn't expected him to be intimidated—it took a much heavier threat for either to grow concerned. And she was much too used to this treatment from them.

"I feel that it's time to lift your punishment—"

"Thank Merlin," Potter breathed.

"Great Agrippa," Black praised.

The look of relief on their faces was highly amusing, but Minerva knew she could not tolerate their interruption. She fixed them with a stern look. "—And allow you to resume your normal routines."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Evans and McKinnon, now the last students to leave, exit slowly from the classroom. Evans gave one last glance at Potter's back before she left, and Minerva stored it in the back of her mind for the time being. These were interesting developments, interesting indeed.

With Evans and McKinnon out of the classroom, she could now speak openly. "Although I remain wary of your attitude towards this school and its students, I do feel that you have learned some responsibility from this exercise—"

"Certainly," said Potter.

"We're now fully equipped to deal with childcare," Sirius informed her, shifting the baby on his hip.

Minerva wondered suddenly if it had been a mistake to entrust them with a baby, of all things. She hoped that they had not grown too attached to the thing this whole while—it was, after all, a partially transfigured rabbit. "I do hope you won't be terribly broken to part with it."

"_Him_," Potter corrected her. "And we've named him Quaffie."

_Quaffie? _"At least it's not Celestina," Minerva commented dryly. Somehow, a good portion of the professors in the break room had come under the impression that the baby had been named after the ear-grating pop diva. Minerva knew she didn't have to look far for the source of that rumor.

"It's short for Quaffle," Potter informed her with a wink. "He's our Quidditch charm."

Who had come up with such an abysmally unoriginal name as _Quaffie_? Minerva considered inquiring further, but she was certain that that twitch in Potter's cheek meant mischief, and either way she thought it best to retain her measure of growing regard for the two. She raised her brows at Potter, whose irritatingly wide grin didn't falter.

"We haven't named him Quaffie," Black assured her, and Minerva passed him a relieved look. So the future of the wizarding world wasn't at stake. "We haven't really given him a name, to tell the truth," he admitted.

"I should hope that you haven't grown too attached to the thing," she remarked.

Black laughed. "More like fondness, like a pet or something," he said, looking at the baby in his arms. "We reckoned he was happier as a rabbit."

Potter grinned and ruffled his hair. "Think we're just about ready to let him go," he told her. "We're kind of tired of all the nappy changes."

"We reckon he's in your hands now," Black said, a crooked smile putting dimples in his cheeks. "He's your nephew, after all."

"Yes," said Minerva wryly. "I suppose he is. I've heard the most interesting things over the past month."

"Only the best, for our favorite professor," Potter told her, grinning. That boy had a lot of teeth, and though Minerva was quite certain his charm did not work on her, the twitch of her cheek betrayed her amusement.

She flicked her wand at her second-years' essays on her desk, and they assembled into a neat pile. Then, approaching Black and motioning for the child, she lifted the baby from Black's arms and set it on her desk.

"I think it's about time this rabbit returns to its natural state, don't you?" she asked them, and the boys both grinned at her.

Minerva removed the anti-transfiguratory charms she had placed on the rabbit and reversed the transfiguration incantation. With a whirl of brown and black, the baby's forelimbs shrunk and its legs thickened. Brown and black fur sprouted over its body, and where its ears had been stretched two fuzzy ears. Its nose scrunched, whiskers twitching as it scouted its surroundings. The poor thing was still clothed in pajamas.

"Quaffie," Potter said affectionately.

Minerva vanished the pajamas. "Much better, I think." She picked up the furry animal, which squirmed a bit in her hands, and lifted it back to the cage with its fellow rabbits.

"We'll have to come visit him every day," Black told her when she had secured the cage. The rabbit looked happy inside, as all of the other rabbits scampered to greet him. "And see you too of course, dear Professor. You'll both probably get lonely without us in detention all the time."

Minerva hid a hint of a smile as she restacked her second-years' essays. "Even more so if you turned in your Transfiguration homework on time," she informed him dryly.

"_Professor_," Potter said fondly. "We always knew you cared."

"Don't you both have somewhere to be?" she asked them. Another professor was due to be graced by their presence. "Potions, perhaps?"

Black waved his hand dismissively. "Slughorn doesn't mind if we're late."

Minerva fixed him with a look. This was the type of behavior she didn't encourage. "Shall I assign you another week of detention?" she threatened.

"On second thought," said Black to Potter, "we'd better head over, Prongs."

"Was just thinking that," said Potter.

Minerva shook her head in exasperation, though another unbidden twitch disturbed the corner of her lip. "Move along, then," she told them.

Black passed a final wink towards Minerva, and then the boys shouldered their bags and headed back through the desk rows. They were almost through the door when Minerva called, "Potter?"

Both turned, and Minerva fixed Potter with a knowing look and a small smile before telling him mystically, "Spare Miss Evans a moment or two? She seemed to be having difficulty with the summoning charm."

Potter looked confused for a moment, but he graced her with a smile as he replied, "Sure, Professor."

She nodded her approval, and, as the boys turned and continued their way from the classroom, she watched them go. She could remember their first years at Hogwarts—two youngsters speeding through the halls and levitating Pomona's puffapods over unsuspecting victims. They were almost grown up now—certainly taller than she was now—and it was strange to think that they had only one year before they would fully enter the wizarding world. She didn't know how she would fill her days without their mishaps to sort, and she had to admit that somewhere—deep, deep inside of her—she appreciated the humor they brought to the school, the intelligence they brought to their studies, the amusement they brought to her days… Perhaps she was fonder of the two than she liked to admit.

The boys reached the door of her classroom and Minerva caught the last piece of their conversation as they pulled open the large wooden door and made their way out.

"What'dya say, Prongs?"

And the familiar chorus:

"_Mischief Managed_."

* * *

_Hey guys! __Thanks so much for all your support! __Of course, special thanks goes to my beta, TheGraySpecies. She's been fantastic through this whole process. Thanks for being that second pair of eyes and putting up with my craziness!_

_Please review this final chapter and let me know what you think (that means you, my beloved lurkers). Stay in touch for future stories by following me, and check my profile for information on future stories. __Best wishes, SphinxScribe._


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